


Cafe Latte

by indecentpause



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bisexual Character, Coffee Shop, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, M/M, New Relationship, Polyamorous Vee, Polyamory, Sheraton Academy (original work) AU, coffee shop AU, happy for now, healthy relationship, hfn, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-04-30 08:09:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 29,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14492598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indecentpause/pseuds/indecentpause
Summary: Meara and Danny’s business is about to fold due to some construction blocking their usual customer traffic. Josselin, a regular customer, business student, and jack of all trades, hears of this and offers his help. There’s definite chemistry between Meara and Josselin, but can they get past the social barriers that keep them apart?Sheraton Academy is a now defunct RP that ran from 2003-2010.





	1. Chapter 1

Danny knew running a business wouldn’t be easy, but he didn’t realize it would be this _hard_ , either. It was always within the first five years that startups failed, they said, and here he and his partner were, in year three, barely breaking even. But at least they weren’t yet in the red.

The problem was the construction on the train stop literally next door to the café. It was where most of their business came from, but it had been shut down for months, replacing the hordes of students and businesspeople with the same handful of construction workers coming in only once or twice a day. It wasn’t an even trade, and they’d gone from profitable and thriving to barely scraping by.

Yes, there were a handful of loyal regulars who still made their way in, some of them even daily, despite the terrible parking and lack of a train. But there was a bus line, and a parking garage a few blocks down, and people liked their coffee enough to deal with it. If only there were more of them.

Danny was in the back, standing at the prep table. It doubled as an office during the day after the morning baking was done, this little corner in the joint kitchen-storeroom. His partner and the baker and lead barista, Meara, was turning off the ovens and pushing around racks of cupcakes and scones and cookies, trying to maximize the tiny space as best he could until everything cooled and he could set it out in front.

The doorbell chimed and Danny looked up at the monitor on the wall above the table. That student who came in every day was here. He looked back down at his laptop, the spreadsheet of their monthly budget versus their earnings.

“Josselin’s here,” he said. Meara looked up from the cookie sheet he was tapping to check the temperature, and he nodded.

“I’ll take it. You stay here and work.”

Danny nodded and Meara whisked behind him, pushing through the swinging door.

“Hello!” he called.

Josselin waved, then pointed to his cell phone, which was pressed up to his ear. Meara nodded and went to writing out little signs for the bake case, saying things like, “Chocolate chip cookies, fresh from the oven! Still warm, just ask!” He stuck them each in little holders and swapped out the labels for the signs for the few things they’d run out of. The construction workers _really_ liked their lemon-gingerbread cupcakes. Not one of their best sellers, at least, until the work had started. Now they sold out every day, and sometimes had to make double.

Josselin set up in his usual spot in the corner where the one of the outlets was. He plugged in his laptop and started it up, pulled a few books and notebooks out of his messenger bag and piled them beside it, and sat down to finish his call. Usually they asked people on their phones to take it outside, but Josselin kept his voice down and never spoke to any of the employees while he was on it, so they let him be.

Meara fiddled with his signs and peered back through the window of the swinging door, as if he could see whether the cookies had cooled enough to stack without sticking. Of course, he couldn’t. He just needed to look anywhere but Josselin, because when he looked at Josselin for too long, he tended to zone out and stare.

Josselin was cute! Meara couldn’t help it. His long black hair was always pulled back in a ponytail and he always wore dress shirts and argyle sweater vests and nerdy little ties with things like Pokémon or Tetris blocks on them. Meara wasn’t sure of Josselin’s eye color, because he had so much trouble making eye contact, but from brief glances, he’d come to the conclusion that they were probably blue. Meara was still good with customers, though, because he’d learned tricks to get around it: if he kept his eyes at the top of a person’s nose, they couldn’t tell the difference, and it was so much less stressful than looking someone in the eye.

Josselin finished up his call and slid his phone in his pocket. He stood and approached the cash register. Meara’s fingers already hovered over the ‘zombie’ button.

“Your regular?” he asked.

Josselin nodded. He peered into the bake case and asked, “You got any blueberry scones back there?”

“I do!” Meara said. “They’re still too warm to set out, but I’ll bet they’re perfect for eating.”

Josselin grinned. “I’ll take one. And in the zombie --”

“Soy and enough sugar to rot your teeth, I know.” Meara nodded. Josselin smiled.

They finished the transaction and Josselin stuffed a couple of dollar bills into the tip jar.

“Josephine still not back yet?” he asked.

Meara shook his head. “We can only offer her really part time hours right now, so she’s mostly at her other job. She only comes in for emergencies.”

Josselin frowned. His bottom lip pouted out, and Meara swallowed hard. God, he was cute. Meara ran a hand through his messy brown curls, and he said, “It’s been rough with the construction, Josselin. We might not make it to the winter.”

Josselin’s frown deepened, his forehead creasing. Normally Meara wouldn’t tell a customer something like that, but while he couldn’t say he and Josselin had crossed into friendship territory quite yet, they were closer than the regular customer-employee relationship usually ran. Meara felt safe confiding in him.

“Don’t share that, though, okay?” he asked. “Everything’s up in the air right now.”

“Are you breaking even, at least?” Josselin leaned forward onto the counter, down on his elbows, peering up at Meara with his head tilted just to the side. His concern was so _genuine_ , and Meara thought it went further than just the worry that his usual coffee shop might close.

“Yeah, at least there’s that,” Meara sighed. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, he was smiling again. Josselin was still a customer, after all. “Go ahead and sit down,” Meara said. “I’ll bring it out to you when it’s ready.”

* * *

 

Josselin liked his quiet little corner in the café. The music didn’t reach well back here, so it wasn’t a distraction from his work. He liked it well enough, but they often played music in French and German as well as in English, and it was a struggle trying to translate the lyrics as well as whatever project he was working on. Headphones and instrumental music would probably solve that problem pretty easily, but Josselin liked to hear the sounds of the café, the clinking of dishware and the hiss of the espresso machine. The construction work outside he could do without, but he had to take the bad with the good.

He’d just opened up his documents when a clink on the table called his attention. He looked up to see Meara bent over his table, placing down a huge mug and his scone.

“Don’t let me distract you,” Meara said. He straightened and nervously wiped his hands on his apron. He always seemed to be a little bit tense, even with how easy his smiles came.

Josselin shook his head. “You’re fine.”

“I’ll let you get back to work,” Meara said, and with a small wave, he went back behind the counter again.

Josselin went back to his work, translating a legal document from English into Finnish for a client who was looking to expand their business reach. He picked up the coffee and nearly took a sip, then paused when he caught the brown and white picture in the edges of his vision.

Drawn in the foam of his coffee was a frog with a heart over its head. Josselin smiled. Meara always made the best coffee art. It was one of the many reasons he was the lead barista.

There weren’t many employees here. Meara was usually at the counter when Josselin came in in the mornings, and occasionally, Josephine. He’d seen another man around in the background, with tawny brown skin and messy black hair and bruises under his eyes, but had never spoken to him. Josselin had never seen anyone else working. Maybe they had an afternoon shift; he didn’t know. Maybe Meara and his partner worked the full day, just between the two of them. When it was busier, Josephine was always Meara’s number two, but now…

The coffee shop closing? Josselin wasn’t quite sure why that scared him so much. There were dozens, maybe hundreds, of cafés around the city, and if this one closed he could easily find another.

But the others didn’t have sweetheart baristas with bright smiles who couldn’t make eye contact and had a nervous habit of wiping their hands on their aprons. Who always made his drink just right without asking, and always snuck a heart into the foam art somewhere.

Josselin had noticed, of course. He was a lot more perceptive than most people assumed. However, he never knew how to _deal_ with those things he noticed, so he often ignored them and most people thought he didn’t notice them at all.

He glanced up from his work to the counter, where Meara was sliding a tray of cupcakes into the bake case. He had a tiny bit of yellow frosting on his cheek, and Josselin wanted to lick it off, but that was unacceptable to think so he went back to his work.

The doorbell chimed and Josselin glanced up again. A woman in the construction workers’ uniform walked in, brown pants with bright orange stripes along the knees and heavy boots that stomped on the suddenly, seemingly delicate floor. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail. She grinned brightly when she saw Meara’s tray, and he said,

“Here for your daily cupcakes?”

“Yes, sir!” she laughed.

“I’ve got them boxed up for you in back. Just a second.”

Josselin’s eyes followed Meara until he disappeared behind the wall, then he stared at the wall a while as the door creaked opened and closed and opened again. Meara reappeared with two white boxes and a clean face.

“Two dozen lemon-gingerbread, as ordered,” he grinned. Josselin sighed wistfully and smiled to himself. Meara had a grin that could rival Frankie’s.

When he thought of his girlfriend, he looked away and picked up his phone, sending her a quick message. She was in Germany right now, so they couldn’t talk, but at least they could chat through Slack.

_Would you hold it against me if I asked the cute barista out on a date?_

_Meara or Josephine?_ Frankie asked.

Another beep, another message. _Not that it matters. Just curious!_

 _Meara,_ Josselin replied.

_Oh, hell yeah, he is cute. No, babe, you know our relationship is open. I know I’m only home a few months of the year and if you meet someone, go for it! Just remember I’m still here, too. :)_

Josselin smiled and pressed a kiss to the phone screen before he sent another text. _I know. But I still feel like I should ask._

Frankie didn’t write back right away, so Josselin assumed she’d gotten swept up in another adventure she’d tell him about in her nightly emails. He put his phone back down on the table, face down, and looked up at Meara behind the bake case, sliding in trays and moving things around.

Josselin took another sip of his coffee, completely ruining what was left of the frog picture. He put the cup down. He went back to work.

There was no _way_ he could ask Meara out on a date. What if he was reading the signals wrong? What if Meara just really liked drawing hearts and put them on _everyone’s_ drink? If the barista turned him down, Josselin would never be able to come back again!

But if the coffee shop closed, he might never be able to track him down for another chance.

Josselin sighed and slipped his reading glasses back up his nose so he could go back to work.

Five hours later, he’d finished his work, ordered his usual sandwich to go, and left without asking Meara anything at all.


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey, Danny?”

Meara and Danny were both in back again. Meara was finishing up the frosting on the last of the cupcakes while Danny continued to crunch numbers. Maybe if they closed an hour earlier on weekdays? They got negligible business, then. Probably not even worth the electric bill.

“Yeah?” Danny asked without looking up. Distracted. Maybe that would make this conversation easier.

“You’re good with relationships. How long does it take to develop a crush?”

Danny blinked owlishly at his laptop, then finally broke his gaze away from the screen to look at his friend. Meara had buttercream on his face again, just a tiny smear.

“What do you mean, exactly?”

“You know, a crush,” Meara said. “How long does it take?”

“Well, you can get a crush on someone without ever even talking to them, just because you think they’re cute. Like, with me and Akasha, it was --” He snapped his fingers. “Boom! Instant chemistry. Sometimes it happens like that. Sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes it’s slower.”

Meara kept his gaze carefully on the cupcakes.

Danny paused. “Have you been seeing someone you haven’t told me about?”

Meara shook his head and finished off the swirl on the last cupcake. “No,” he said. “Just curious.”

Danny eyed his friend suspiciously, about to call bullshit, when the doorbell chimed again. He looked up at the monitor.

“Max and Roxie are here,” he said. He put down his phone, which doubled as a calculator, and said, “I’ll be right back. Just going to get them settled.”

While Danny tended to his twelve-year old twins, Meara put the cupcakes away and washed out the piping bag and tip. He grabbed one of the long, white plates they used for the bake case, stuck a date sticker on the bottom, and lined up two rows of chocolate cupcakes with double fudge buttercream.

Max was spinning on the barstool when Meara brought the cupcakes out, Roxie quietly working on her homework. Danny was chattering away to his son about their school day while he made them each a smoothie, an off-menu kids’ concoction of milk, caramel, and vanilla. Meara smiled to himself as he put the cupcakes away.

“Are those chocolate cupcakes?” Max asked, brown eyes wide and excited.

“Yes, and you can’t have one,” Danny said. Max wilted and Danny laughed. “Your mom will kill me if I let you eat sweets before dinner.”

“She doesn’t have to know!”

“You and I both know she does.”

Danny ruffled Max’s bright red hair and Max’s pale face flushed behind his smattering of freckles. He pushed Danny’s hand away.

“Dad!” he whined. “What if someone sees?”

“Nobody’s here to see,” Danny said, sliding one smoothie across to Roxie and planting the other in front of Max. Max stuck the yellow straw in his mouth and went quiet. He was starting to look more and more like his mom every day, Meara thought, and Roxie more and more like her dad. Roxie had his curly, coily hair, even though she didn’t straighten it like he did, his tawny brown skin, his dark, long lashes. A white parent and a brown parent and a white twin and a brown twin. The doctor said the odds were one in thousands.

“I’ll be right back,” Danny said, and before Max could protest, he was through the door and back again with his laptop and phone, setting up on the opposite end of the bar. Normally he’d never allow it, but if there were no customers to see, it didn’t really matter.

Business was slow. They sold a handful of drinks and even fewer pastries. At closing time, as Meara wrapped up the remaining food, he sighed and looked over to Danny and said, “We’re going to have to cut back on what we bake. I have too much left. I’m never going to be able to sell all of this before it goes stale.”

Danny frowned. Akasha had long ago come and picked up the kids, leaving him and Meara alone in the shop together. Danny was back in Josselin’s usual spot on his laptop, chewing on his nails, a bad habit he’d broken a long time back and recently started again because of the stress. He took one last, long look at his spreadsheet and sighed. He stood, heading back behind the bar through the knee-high swinging door so he could start cleaning the espresso machine. It wasn’t fair to leave all the work to Meara, after all.

He ran some water into an empty pitcher to start cleaning the steam wands. “So,” he said over the hiss and bubble, “what was this about a crush?”

Meara looked up from his wrapping. “What? Nothing.”

“Seriously,” Danny said. “Who? Is it anyone I know?”

Meara didn’t reply. He just wrapped up the last tray and started taking them to the fridge in the back.

“I’ll find out eventually!” Danny called after him. “You’re terrible at hiding things like this!”

Danny was frighteningly quiet as Meara put the rest of the food away. Pensive, almost. Finally, when Meara walked around to the front to wipe down the case and the windows, Danny asked abruptly, “It’s not Josephine, is it? Because if it is, we’re going to have some problems.”

Meara whirled around from cleaning the inside of the window. “What? Oh, god no! I’m her manager! That’s so messed up, Danny. Doesn’t she have a girlfriend, anyway?”

“Well, yeah,” Danny said. He dumped the dirty water out, ran some clean into the pitcher, and switched over to the other steam wand. “All of that’s true. But that kind of stuff doesn’t decide for you whether you’ll have a crush on someone.”

“Well, I don’t have a crush on Josephine,” Meara said, turning back to the window. “Don’t worry.”

“Is it --”

But Meara didn’t stay to listen to the end of the question. He unlocked the door and went outside to clean the other side of the windows.

Meara sighed as he sprayed the cleaner on his wad of paper towel and started to wipe down the glass. Danny wasn’t going to let him leave tonight until he figured out who Meara had been talking about. He should have known better than to ask Danny anything about crushes. He should have known Danny would pick up on the underlying, _And what do I do about it?_ They weren’t just partners, after all. They’d been best friends since they were children.

And Danny had always considered himself a master of romance. He was either going to try to hook Meara up with Josselin, or chew Meara out for crushing on a customer. And Meara was terrified of either of those options.

* * *

 

Meara spent the rest of the evening dodging Danny’s questions, and it was only a phone call from Danny’s wife, Akasha, that got him out of the shop on time. Apparently Max had maybe broken his arm falling out of a tree and she needed Danny to meet her and the kids at the hospital.

Meara shooed Danny out none-too-gently with the smack of a cleaning rag, and Danny laughed and said, “I’ll find out! You can only hide your special someone for so long!”

Meara rolled his eyes and locked the door behind Danny. Danny pulled a face through the glass. Meara pulled one back. Danny laughed and waved and made his way around the back of the building to his car.

The shop was small, but the reason for that was the apartment attached to the back of the space. It was too small for Danny and his family, but it was the perfect size for Meara, even if it did mean literally living at work. He made his way to the back where the bathrooms were, and unlocked the door marked ‘employees only.’

It led into a small, narrow hallway that opened up into a tiny studio, maybe the size of the kitchen if it were cut in half and laid side by side. A full size mattress was pushed up in the corner and books and magazines were stacked everywhere, overflowing from the bookshelves and onto the tables and floor. There wasn’t even a kitchen because of the one in the café, which was unfortunate, but at least there had been space for him to bring in a fridge and a microwave. Real meals he ate at Danny’s once or twice a week, and he kept a small, personal fridge in the café kitchen with ingredients so he could make himself something when he had the time.

Which, unfortunately, was becoming more and more often.

He sighed and looked back through the hallway mournfully. If they lost the shop, he’d lose his apartment, too. He knew he wouldn’t be homeless; Danny wouldn’t allow it. They’d find him space. But even though the space was small and the only windows were too high to see out of and looked back on the alleyway anyway, it was his, and he liked it that way. He was used to it. He liked his space, the alone time he was afforded by having his own place.

With one last heavy sigh, he looked away and plodded to the bathroom, where he stripped off his clothes and hopped into the shower to wash off the day’s grime.

* * *

 

Josselin came in the next day, and the next, and the next, as he always did, always at 9:00 in the morning and staying until 3:00 or so, just before Danny took over so Meara could do the afternoon baking. Meara had to work hard to pretend he wasn’t falling for the other man more and more with each day that passed. Josselin’s visits were routine; a zombie and a scone, hours of work on his laptop, and a sandwich to go. But he was special, and Meara was insistent on this.

On the fourth day, both Meara and Danny were in the back when the bell rang again. Meara looked up at the clock and Danny looked up at the monitor. Before Danny could announce who it was, Meara saw the time -- 9:00 a.m. -- and chirped, “I’ve got it!”

There was a spring in his step as he sped by past Danny’s back, and it clicked.

“It’s Josselin!” Danny called after Meara as he pushed through the door.

The man in question was standing at his usual spot in front of the bake case, full this time. The only things Meara had had to fill this morning were the lemon-gingerbread cupcakes and a handful of chocolate chip cookies, and Meara _hated_ it. He wanted everything fresh every day, but it just wasn’t feasible. He couldn’t make eight cookies from scratch every day, and his cupcake batches had to be at least twelve.

“Your usual?” Meara asked. But his smile was a little shaky, because he’d heard Danny call after him, and what if Josselin had, too? What if he figured it out?

Josselin grinned. “Yes, please,” he said. “And an orange scone?”

“Sure!”

Josselin’s phone went off and he pulled it out of his pocket. “Don’t total that up yet,” he said. He swiped his finger over the screen as Meara stood, hand hovering over the touchscreen of the register. Josselin looked up. “I’m sorry, I know this is so rude, but I was expecting this earlier and I just want to…” He trailed off and looked back down at the screen. A bright smile crossed his face and he slid his phone back into his pocket.

“And a medium iced mocha, and a chocolate peanut butter cupcake,” he added. “Now you can total it out.”

Meara rang it up and did just that. “Meeting someone?” he asked. It was his job to make conversation, after all, even if with Josselin it was so natural and enjoyable.

“Yeah! My, uh…” Josselin trailed off again. A small frown tugged at his mouth for just a split second, then his smile came back. “My person,” he finally said.

And, because that was a weird thing to say, Meara’s brow drew down in confusion and he repeated, “Your… person?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Oh.” Meara tried not to sound like he’d just been punched in the stomach, but it still came out a little weak, a disappointed puff of air. Josselin was seeing someone. Sort of. And it wasn’t Meara’s place to butt in -- he was just a barista at Josselin’s usual coffee shop. He was nothing special.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Danny peering through the window on the door, trying to appear as if he was still working.

“Is that going to be for here, like usual?” Meara asked.

“Yep! Always working, even when I’m meeting friends.”

Meara smiled. “No problem.” He plated up the cupcake and scone and passed them over to Josselin, and said, “I’ll bring your drinks out when they’re ready.”

“Thanks.”

Josselin smiled, and it was only then Meara really noticed the dark circles under his eyes.

He added an extra shot to Josselin’s zombie, and a little extra sweetener to cover the bitterness and bring it back to where the other man liked it.

The doorbell rang and Meara looked up from the espresso machine, where he was pulling shots for the mocha. A young woman bounced in like the world was made of sunshine and she was a unicorn prancing down a rainbow. Her white sundress danced around her legs and her blonde hair fell carelessly around her face out of its half-ponytail. Her body was heavily inked, all the way from her neck down to her ankles.

Meara called, “Welcome! I’ll be with you in a minute!”

“No worries!” the woman grinned. She headed straight past the cash register and right up to Josselin.

Where she planted a huge, loud, smacking kiss right on his mouth.

Meara wilted and nearly dropped the shot glasses of espresso. She must have been Josselin’s ‘it’s complicated.’

He didn’t make eye contact when he dropped off the drinks, and he barely said a word, too embarrassed to try to make conversation. Not only had he been crushing on a customer, but that customer was seeing someone, and was probably straight.

* * *

 

Josselin smiled when Meara brought them their drinks, but it faded when the other man turned away with barely a half-smile back and without a word. He looked down into his drink. The drawing in the foam was a swan, this time, but there was no heart anywhere to be seen.

Oh no. Oh no. Meara didn’t realize he and Frankie were in an open relationship and thought he’d been hitting on someone who was taken. Oh no.

And how could he know? How could anyone know unless Josselin explicitly stated it? Open relationships weren’t common enough to assume, and…

And maybe he’d just ruined his chances of wooing the adorable, nervous barista he’d been crushing on the past four weeks.

He started when a pair of fingers snapped in front of his nose.

“Josselin! Hello?”

He smiled, although it was a little sad. “Sorry.”

She leaned closer and dropped her voice. “That’s Meara?”

Josselin nodded. Frankie grinned.

“He’s even cuter than the picture you sent! Man, no wonder you have a crush.”

Josselin took a sip of his coffee, marring the foam drawing. Frankie slurped up some of her mocha through her bright yellow straw and said, “Are you going to do anything about it?”

“I don’t know,” Josselin said. “That’s weird, right? Like, I’m a regular customer. What if he says no? I’ll never be able to come back again!”

“No, you’ll just have to come back in the evenings when someone else is on shift,” she said. She waggled her eyebrows. “Come on, how else will you know if you don’t give it a shot? He could be your soulmate!”

“How do you know _you’re_ not my soulmate?”

Frankie laughed, bright and brash and beautiful. “I’m the _world’s_ soulmate, Josselin.”

Josselin grinned. Maybe that would hurt someone else, someone who wasn’t in their situation. But it was true.

He went back to his laptop as Frankie told him stories of her trip to Germany, the people she met and the food she ate and the things she saw.

“I’ll load the pictures onto your laptop so you can look at them while I’m gone,” she said. She was leaving again tomorrow, for New Zealand this time.

Josselin’s eyes darted up from his laptop to her face, and he nodded. Frankie took the hint and went quiet, mostly, except the occasional story she’d forgotten to tell the first time around. They’d have plenty of time to talk at his place later tonight. She’d missed him, and she knew he’d missed her, but his work was important, too.

They left an hour earlier than Josselin usually did, around 2:00 p.m.

The other man was at the register, the tall black-haired one. Josselin frowned. He hadn’t seen Meara leave.

“Where’s Meara?” he asked.

The man thumbed toward the door leading into the kitchen. “Afternoon bake,” he said. “I’m Danny, by the way. You just never see me because I’m usually in the back in the mornings and don’t come out here until around 4:00 or so.”

“I’m --”

“Josselin,” Danny interrupted. “I know. Meara talks about you often enough. Until he learned your name we just called you the zombie guy.”

Josselin chuckled. Frankie nudged his elbow with hers, a silent encouragement. He held up two fingers.

“Two caprese sandwiches to go, please,” was all he said.

Danny rang him up. “Give us just about five minutes. I’m not sure what he’s in the middle of right now.”

* * *

 

The September air was still too hot for Josselin’s liking. Give him the chill of October, the hoodies and blankets and hot chocolates, any day. Frankie swiped the paper bag from Josselin’s hands and dug her sandwich out.

“We could have stayed,” Josselin said.

Frankie shrugged and took a bite of her sandwich. “Why didn’t you say anything? That guy gave you the perfect opening.” She unwrapped the sandwich a little further and took another bite. “Oh god, this is the best sandwich I ever ate.”

“Isn’t that a little crass? Telling a guy’s friend you like him before you tell the guy yourself?”

“I don’t know,” Frankie said. “If it were me, I’d just go up and say something.” She grinned as they turned the corner to the bus stop. “How I got you.”

Josselin chuckled and leaned back against the brick wall of the building at the edge of the sidewalk as Frankie hung from the sign, peering down the street for the bus.

“Not yet,” she said.

“Okay.” Josselin paused, readjusting his hands to a more comfortable position behind his back. “I don’t know. I’m not as forward as you. I’ll screw it up.”

“No you won’t.”

“I think I already have.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think he saw you kiss me.”

Frankie paused around a half-chewed bite. She swallowed. “Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“I wasn’t even thinking.”

“Well,” Josselin said, “I mean, he’d know about you sooner rather than later, anyway. You’d be the first thing I’d tell him about if I ever got into a dating situation with him. But he didn’t put a heart in my coffee this morning and --”

“He draws hearts on your coffee?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s _adorable_.”

“Well, usually he does. Not today.”

Frankie frowned and wrapped up the last half of her sandwich. She stuffed it back in the bag and peered down the street again.

“The bus is coming,” she said. She squinted at it, approaching in the distance. “And it looks mostly empty, too! Sweet.”

* * *

 

Meara was just sliding the last tray of cookies in the oven when Danny came back into the kitchen.

“Is he gone?” Meara asked.

“Yeah,” Danny said. He went back to his computer, where he spent most of his time these days. “But I’m not going to keep doing that for you. We’re not in grade school.”

“I know,” Meara sighed. He wiped a smear of flour off his arm on the edge of his apron. “I just… I didn’t even think he might have a girlfriend, you know?”

“Wait, what?” Danny looked up from his laptop, eyes wide. “You mean that woman was --”

“Well, she kissed him pretty loud and messy right on the mouth, so I doubt she’s his sister.” Meara frowned and looked down at the steel table where he did his baking and decorating. Some flour, a couple of smears of cookie dough. He pulled his rag out of his apron pocket and started to wipe it down.

“Shit, Meara, I’m sorry. I can take his orders from now on, if you want.”

Meara shook his head and pocketed the rag in his apron. “No. I don’t want him to think I dislike him or something. It would be weird. We don’t have a lot of regulars anymore, and I don’t want to scare him off.”

* * *

 

The next day, Josselin came in alone, and nobody joined him in his work.

The day after that, he didn’t come in at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come visit me at indecentpause.tumblr.com for moodboards, excerpts, playlists, and more!


	3. Chapter 3

Three days had passed since Josselin had last come in, and Meara found himself watching both the monitor in the back and the door in the front, waiting and hoping for him to come back. What happened? Was it because he’d sent Danny out that one time? Had Josselin noticed the drawings of hearts in his drinks, and realized Meara wasn’t doing it anymore? Was that woman a blind date who ended up axe murdering him? What was going on?

Meara’s eyes darted over to the corkboard of business cards and flyers and the table underneath. When Josselin had asked to leave some cards for his translating service, Meara hadn’t thought much of it, but now…

Would it be weird if he used the number on the card to get in touch for something other than business reasons? Was that pushing past boundaries? Josselin could always hang up on him, sure, but what if…

What if, what if, what if.

When he walked by the table to clean the handprints off the door, he pocketed a card, and for a long time, he left it there.

* * *

 

“Hey, Danny?”

Danny was sweeping the kitchen so Meara could plate up the freshly baked cookies. He looked up from his work and stopped humming.

“What’s up?”

“Do you think… is it weird that Josselin hasn’t come in?”

“Are you worried?”

Meara didn’t look up from his plates, but he nodded.

“Is _that_ weird?”

“I don’t think so.” Danny grabbed the dustpan and swept in the dirt and flour. “He’s been here every day for months. It is a little weird for him to just disappear.”

“Would it also be weird if I called him?”

Danny fumbled the broom, but didn’t drop it. “He gave you his number?”

“No, I… he left some business cards a while back. For his translating service. I could get his business number from there, if I wanted.”

“I don’t know,” Danny said. “I mean, I think it’s okay, as long as you’re not creepy about it. So just don’t be creepy about it!”

Meara rolled his eyes and pushed through the door. Danny followed him, broom and dustpan still in hand, so he could sweep the front room. Meara slid the cookies into the bake case and turned back around.

“Watch the front for me a minute, okay?”

Danny smirked as Meara grabbed the phone on his way back through the door, but didn’t comment.

Business card in one hand and cordless café phone in the other, Meara paced the end of the tiny kitchen. Finally, he turned the phone on and dialed the number on the card.

It rang once, twice, and Meara realized he didn’t even know what he was going to say, and on the third ring, Josselin picked up with a coughing fit and a croaked “Sorry. Hello?”

Meara was still, tongue-tied for a second.

“Hello?”

“Sorry, um, hi, is Josselin there?”

A pause. “Who is this?”

“Sorry. It’s Meara? From the café you visit every day?”

“Meara?”

“Yeah, um.” It was that moment Meara realized how stupid he sounded, but he couldn’t hang up now. That would be rude. Finally, he soldiered on and said, “You haven’t been in for a few days, and usually you’re here all the time, and I just wanted to check in and make sure you’re all right?”

“Oh.” Another coughing fit. “Sorry. Yeah, I’m fine, I guess. Just sick. I tend to catch the flu every year, even though I always get the shot. “

“I’m sorry,” Meara said.

Josselin laughed, a throaty, choking sound, almost like a smoker’s cough. “Don’t apologize. It’s okay. Thanks for checking in on me. I’ll be okay.”

Another awkward pause, and Meara spit out, “Do you want me to bring you anything? Soup or whatever?”

The surprise was evident in Josselin’s voice. “I’d really like that, actually. Thank you. That’s really thoughtful. I’m a vegetarian, but other than that I eat pretty much anything.”

* * *

 

Meara was a vegetarian, too, and so were Danny and his whole family, so Meara knew the vegetarian-friendly brands backwards and forwards. He didn’t have to read the labels, just grabbed the soups based on brand and type and dropped them in his basket. He grabbed a carton of orange juice, too. Anything Josselin didn’t want, he could just take back home with him.

Josselin lived about a twenty minute bus ride away. For how convenient living in the back of the bakery was, it was kind of inconvenient that he had to leave home to do anything. But twenty minutes wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Danny was much farther than that.

Meara checked his phone for the tenth time, at least, to make sure he was knocking on the right door. Josselin had texted him his address shortly after their phone call, which meant the other man had his private number, now. Oh, god, hopefully nothing went weird or bad with this visit. Meara wouldn’t be able to take it.

 _22A ½._ And a half? That was weird. Meara shrugged and knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” came the ragged call, followed by a coughing fit.

“It’s, um, Meara?” Meara called back.

“It’s open.”

Meara turned the handle and pushed hesitantly, and sure enough, the door was unlocked. He closed it behind him. Was Josselin expecting someone else, or had he left it for him? Was his girlfriend coming over? Oh, please no.

There was a small kitchen on the left side, and through the little hallway was a large room. Josselin’s bed was pushed into one corner, a TV at the wall opposite, shelves of books and magazines to rival even Meara’s collection. There were two other doors, but they must have led to closets, or a bathroom. This was probably a studio.

Meara awkwardly approached Josselin’s side and put the bag with the soup and other food down by his shoulder.

“I got a few different ones,” he said. “Mostly with lentils and beans. You know, keep up with your protein while you’re sick. I hope that’s okay.”

Josselin didn’t seem to notice any awkwardness or unsureness. He dug through the bags as Meara looked around the room, and Josselin said, “You can pull up the chair from the desk if you want.”

Meara did.

Finally, Josselin picked a can of soup, and he started to push himself up, but Meara snatched it out of his hand and gently pushed him back down by the shoulder. As soon as he realized what he was doing, he jerked his hand away. That was too familiar. He was overstepping his bounds.

“I can do it,” he mumbled. “You just rest, okay?”

Meara fumbled around in the kitchen while Josselin turned on the TV in the main room. The sounds constantly changing told Meara he was channel surfing.

Once he had the soup in the microwave, he put away everything else, but left the soups on the small counter so they would be easy to find once he left.

The soup would take five minutes, so Meara went back into the living room and sat beside Josselin again. His pale face was flush with fever and his eyes were a little glazed. Meara wanted to push his hair out of his face, but that probably wouldn’t be welcome, so he stayed still with his hands on his knees. He looked around the room, his head and neck moving in jerks and starts, like a nervous bird. His eyes fell on the little bedside table next to his chair, neat and tidy but cluttered with photos in different novelty frames. Meara picked one up: it was a picture of Josselin, maybe five or six years ago, maybe longer, and another young man with curly auburn hair and bright green eyes.

“That’s my ex-boyfriend,” Josselin said. “Dona.”

Meara jumped and put the photo back where it had come from. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s none of my business.”

“It’s okay. You were wondering, right?”

Meara shrugged one shoulder, but nodded all the same. So Josselin was bi. Or pan. Or, hell, maybe even ace, but biromantic. But it didn’t matter, because he was with someone.

“Thanks for coming over,” Josselin said again. “I don’t really have anyone in the city, so it’s hard when I’m home and sick alone.”

Meara frowned. “What about your girlfriend?”

Josselin blinked at the TV, then turned back to Meara. “Hm? Oh, she’s gone.”

 _She’s gone?_ What the hell did that mean? Was she dead? Did they break up? Was _Josselin_ the axe-murderer?

“Excuse me?” was all he managed.

Josselin’s brow furrowed at Meara’s confusion, then he seemed to realize what he’d said. “Oh! No, she’s in New Zealand. She left the day after she came into the café. She’s a travel writer, so she’s always off having some adventure somewhere. She’s usually only here in Chicago about two months out of the year, if you add it all up.”

Meara’s hands clenched on his knees. “Must be hard.”

“It is,” Josselin said. “But we talk on Skype, and we text, and we have facetime chats. And we’re in an open relationship, so, you know, it’s… it’s good.”

Josselin peered almost warily at Meara at his admittance of being in an open relationship, but surely he was just afraid of being judged, right? Anything else was just Meara’s hopeful projections.

“Open relationship?” Meara asked. Was his voice shaking? Please, god, keep his voice from shaking.

“Yeah, we… we date other people sometimes. Or, we allow each other to date other people. We don’t actually do it much because most people don’t understand our dynamic, or don’t want to.”

“Sounds rough.”

The microwave beeped.

“That’s your soup!” Meara jumped to his feet and rushed into the kitchen to stir it and check the temperature.

After he did so, he put it back in the microwave and set a no cook timer for two minutes so Josselin wouldn’t burn himself. He pulled out his phone and set it on silent, then sent Danny a quick message:

_He and his girlfriend are in an open relationship._

It took a few minutes to get a response. Danny was probably sitting down to dinner with his family about now, and Akasha had a strict ‘no phones at the table’ policy. But he must have just caught his friend at the right time, because Danny texted back:

_Go for itttttttt_

The microwave beeped again and Meara slid his phone back in his pocket. He grabbed the half-full bowl and a spoon and took it back into the living room, where he sat back down and moved a few photos out of the way to put the bowl down. Josselin propped himself up against the wall and reached out for the soup. He ignored the spoon, sipping straight from the bowl, and he sighed.

“Thank you, Meara, really,” he said. “This is exactly what I needed.”

Meara grinned, finally a full smile that showed the gap teeth he was so self-conscious of. Josselin grinned back.

“Would you --“

“How’s the --”

They both paused.

“You go first,” Meara laughed.

“How’s business going? Any better since we talked about it last?”

Meara’s smile faded. “It’s about the same,” he sighed. He shrugged one shoulder and dropped his gaze to his hands, still curled up on his knees. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed again. “It’s… it’s been rough. We’re barely breaking even. We _are_ breaking even, so closure isn’t imminent, but… we’ve tried everything, Josselin, everything we can afford. Advertisements in the papers and on different websites, coupons, punch cards, discounts for regular customers --”

Josselin smiled into his soup, just a little, because he was one of those discounted regulars. It worked: in the beginning, before he’d started crushing on Meara, it was what kept bringing him back.

“But the construction is really hurting you,” Josselin finished.

Meara nodded. “A lot of our business came from people transferring to and from the train. That’s why we picked that location.” He scrubbed at his face with his hands, as if to clear his mind. “We’re going to start closing an hour earlier on weekdays. It won’t affect you,” he added quickly. “You’re usually gone by 3:00. We’re thinking of closing at 5:00 instead of 6:00, since the business we get in that time is negligible, at best. We probably spend more on output than we get coming in through sales.”

Josselin took another sip of his soup, letting Meara talk. He never talked about himself at the café, even with Josselin’s gentle prodding, and Josselin wanted to hear everything about him. Even the sad and frustrating parts.

They sat in silence for a few moments, Meara looking at his knees and Josselin peering into his soup, as if looking for answers. Finally, he said,

“You know, Meara, I went to school for business.”

Meara looked up, confused.

“I might be able to help you figure something out,” Josselin elaborated.

“I don’t know much about that,” Meara admitted. “I’m just the baker. Danny is the business guy.”

“Do you want me to talk to him? To see if maybe I can spot something you’re not seeing?” Josselin paused, then reconsidered. “Would he even welcome that?” He didn’t want to step on any toes. Especially if it might ruin any slim chance he could have with Meara.

“I think he would,” Meara said. He looked up. “Can I have him call you?”

Josselin smiled. “He’s always in, right? Just in the back?”

“Mostly.”

“Then I’ll ask for him when I’m better and come in next,” Josselin said.

Meara grinned. Josselin was coming back. He hadn’t made things weird.

“What were you going to say?” Josselin asked.

Meara shook his head and stood. “I should probably get going,” he said. “Let you rest.”

Josselin hid his frown by taking another sip of soup. He nodded. Once he swallowed, he lowered the bowl and said, “Thank you again for coming by. I really appreciate it.”

“There’s more soup on your counter,” Meara said. “And some juice in your fridge. Do you like orange juice?”

“I do.”

“Oh, good,” Meara said. “I was hoping. I would take it if you didn’t want it but… I mean, Danny’s daughter hates the stuff, so you never know, you know? Anyway, I should get going.” He bit his lip to stop himself from talking and moving on to say something inappropriate or stupid, and he looked down at his feet. He ran his hand through his hair and pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Well, call if you need anything else. Just, not at the store unless it’s an emergency.”

“Of course,” Josselin said.

He leaned forward to watch Meara go, frowning when the door closed behind him.

Meara’s exit had been… abrupt. Had Josselin done something wrong? He’d never been subtle, but he’d thought he was pretty okay at making non-awkward conversation. He replayed Meara’s visit in his head as he nursed his soup and half-watched the infomercials on the TV. No, the only thing he’d said involving relationships was his brief mentions of Dona and Frankie. Maybe he’d dropped hints, but he hadn’t been _overt_.

Had he? Had he scared Meara off by saying something stupid?

He sighed and drained the bowl, then pushed himself out of bed to heat up the rest Meara had left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Come visit me at indecentpause.tumblr.com for more writing and other related things!


	4. Chapter 4

Josselin didn’t call. Meara didn’t call him either, because Josselin hadn’t asked him to.

Three days after Meara’s visit, Danny printed out a new sign for their door, displaying their new hours and announcing they’d go into effect starting the following Monday.

“I really don’t want to raise our prices,” he muttered, just loud enough for Meara to hear over the whirring of the ovens. The timer buzzed and Meara pulled out a tray of cinnamon chip scones.

“We could shrink our menu,” Meara suggested. “Go through and see what doesn’t sell, see if we can cut off some overhead there.”

“Yeah,” Danny sighed, leaning against the table. “I know we could always bring things back, too. Maybe make a few things seasonal? Cost is pretty much the same year round, but, like, people usually only buy the cinnamon scones in fall and winter, and the blueberry muffins sell year round. For example.”

“Mm-hm,” Meara hummed absently as he slid the tray onto a cooling rack and pushed it into a corner. “The coconut syrup doesn’t sell much. And it wouldn’t hurt us if we took the almond mocha off the menu. I only sell a few of those a month.”

“That’s what makes us special, though,” Danny said. His voice was high with tension. “We have flavors the other shops don’t.”

“Like you said, it doesn’t have to be permanent,” Meara said. “We could just slim the menu down temporarily, until the construction stops.”

“How much longer is it supposed to be?”

“About a month and a half. Can we make it?”

Danny hummed in thought and ran some calculations on his phone. “We should,” he said. “I hope. But it’ll be tight.” He punched in a few more numbers. “Maybe if we close one day of the week. We haven’t earned enough to cover next month’s expenses yet.”

“I vote Monday,” Meara said. “We only get a handful of business then.”

“Yeah.” Danny worried his lower lip between his teeth. He didn’t look up when the doorbell rang.

“You keep working on this,” Meara said as he swept past behind him. “I’ll take care of it.”

Meara grinned when he saw the familiar lanky form peering into the bake case. Josselin was back.

“Josselin! How are you?”

“So much better!” Josselin laughed. He pushed his reading glasses up onto his head, clearing his throat a little and flushing in embarrassment when they caught on his hair. He untangled them and settled for slipping them into his shirt collar by the earpiece. A human being had no right to be so cute! That was reserved for things like kittens in bowties and puppies pushing shopping carts.

Josselin smiled.

“Much better now,” he repeated. “A bit of a tickle in my throat I have to clear sometimes, but everything else has cleared up.”

“Good.” Meara’s smile was genuine, all the way up into his bright green eyes. “You going with your regular today?”

“I think I’m going to mix it up a bit, actually,” Josselin said. “Don’t want to bombard myself with too much caffeine when I haven’t had any for a week. So just a black-eye with enough vanilla to --”

“To rot your teeth,” Meara laughed. “No problem.”

“And a blueberry scone.”

Blackeyes didn’t come with foam, so there was no heart to not draw. Josselin had inadvertently given him an out from the awkward latte art flirting situation they’d found themselves tangled up in. If Meara was lucky, maybe the blackeye would become Josselin’s regular.

“For here, still?” Meara asked.

Josselin nodded. After Josselin paid, Meara nodded over to Josselin’s normal spot. “Go ahead and set up. I’ll bring it out. It’ll only be a minute; blackeyes are quick.”

“Thank you,” Josselin said.

And with that, everything went back to routine.

* * *

 

A few customers came through while Josselin worked, a handful came by after. But mostly, business was slow, slower than it had been in a long time. It was that weird in between weather that wasn’t quite hot or cold. Once winter hit, they’d get more business. They always did.

If they made it that long this time.

The last hour, long after Josselin left, nobody came in at all, which only solidified Danny’s decision to start closing an hour early on weekdays.

Meara dumped the tip jar out on the counter as Danny locked the door and flipped the welcome sign to ‘closed.’

“You said we haven’t made enough to cover next months expenses, yet?” he said. Danny nodded and motioned for Meara to pass him the broom and dustpan. Meara did.

“How short are we?”

“You don’t want to know.”

Meara cringed. “Maybe not. But I’m your partner. I need to know.”

“Few thousand,” Danny finally said.

“What, like two, three?”

“A little over three.”

Meara frowned. It was already the second week of September. They couldn’t be late on their bills, or the landlord wouldn’t renew their lease and their power would get shut off.

“We already advertise in the Reader and the Red Eye,” Meara said as he counted through the change. He found a twenty folded in half and his eyes went wide, but his grin faded as fast as it came when he unfolded it and saw it was just a church tract. He threw it out and continued on. “Is there anything else we can do? Like, locally?”

Danny’s mouth twisted as he swept. “I’ll look into it.”

Hidden in the dollar bills and coins was a small piece of paper, folded into quarters. Meara unfolded it, expecting a messily scrawled ‘bring me a cupcake!’ or something along those lines. Sometimes Max and Roxie left them little notes.

But this was in neither Max’s blocky, messy handwriting or Roxie’s curly, careful cursive. It was a script Meara didn’t recognize, and the note said,

_Call me sometime. On my personal. We’ll meet up for ~~coffee~~ ~~not-coffee~~ lunch? To talk about your advertising._

_Josselin_

Underneath his note was his phone number. The last four digits were different from the one on his card. Meara cross checked it to the number Josselin had texted him from a few days back. They matched. Josselin wasn’t messing with him.

Though, why would he? He seemed so genuine and nice. That was one of the reasons Meara was crushing so hard.

* * *

 

Josselin glanced over at his phone, sitting on the table beside his photo collection. It was still silent. He sighed and went back to his laptop and his work, curled up in bed in a nest of pillows and blankets. The TV was on, but so low he couldn’t make out the dialogue. It was more for the background drone of noise than any interest he might have had in watching it. That was what Netflix was for.

Why did he have to tack on that stupid comment about advertising? He wanted a date, not a business meeting, but now Meara would get the wrong idea and it would be his own fault.

Meara would probably be expecting to bring Danny, which was fine and everything, because Danny seemed nice enough. But it wasn’t what Josselin wanted. Meara _had_ said Danny was the business end of things. It wouldn’t make sense nor would it be fair to use Meara as a go-between.

Josselin sighed and dropped his head to his keyboard, then immediately jerked back, deleting the string of characters his forehead had typed into his document. He blew a raspberry to try to relieve some stress, and tried to go back to work.

At about 7:00, Josselin’s phone finally rang. He pounced on it, grinning when he saw Meara’s name come up on the caller ID. He tried not to sound too excited, but he was still a little breathless when he answered.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Josselin? It’s Meara.”

“Hi!”

An awkward pause. They were really good at that.

“Did you get my note, then?” Josselin finally thought to ask.

“Yeah,” Meara said. “We, uh, we’re closing on Mondays, now, starting next week, so we can maybe meet for lunch then? Or any Monday. Earlier is better than later, though, since Danny has to pick up his kids from school now that they can’t walk over to the café to wait for his wife.”

“Danny has… kids?” He didn’t seem the type, but then, what did Josselin know? He’d only met Danny a handful of times, and that wasn’t enough to accurately judge something like that.

“Yeah, twelve year old twins,” Meara said.

“Twelve?” Josselin asked, disbelieving. “How old is _he?_ ”

“Thirty-five?” Meara sounded a little unsure, like maybe he shouldn’t be having this conversation.

“Sorry,” Josselin said quickly. “Not my business. He just looks really young, like, in his early twenties.”

“Oh, no,” Meara laughed. “We didn’t even open the shop until he finished school.”

“Until he finished school? You mean you didn’t?”

There was another pause, and Josselin assumed Meara was shaking his head.

“I didn’t go. Didn’t have the money and didn’t want the debt. We knew what our endgame was, though, so I worked in a bunch of different bakeries and cafés over the years, took some specialized classes on coffee roasting and latte art, things like that, while Danny worked on the business stuff.” He paused again. “You said you went to school for business? What do you do exactly?”

“I’m a translator,” Josselin said. “Freelance. I take jobs as they come, but not a lot of people in Chicago who work as translators are fluent in things like Japanese and Dutch, so I do okay.”

“That’s really cool,” Meara said. “A lot cooler than my lame job.”

“I like what you do,” Josselin said, maybe a little too quickly. He cleared his throat. “And I’m glad you do it. You keep people like me in business.”

Meara chuckled.

They spent the next few minutes making small talk and finally getting to the point, which was their lunch meeting. They scheduled it for the following Monday at noon at a restaurant near Josselin’s apartment, at his suggestion.

“They have a little bit of everything,” he said. “Their pizza is awesome. And they offer vegan stuff, if that matters to you.”

“Awesome!”

Josselin could _hear_ Meara’s grin through the phone. He grinned in response. He didn’t want this call to end, even though he could feel it gradually moving in that direction. He wanted Meara alone, across from him at the lunch table, holding his hand and tracing his palm lines, talking about… _anything_ , really. Meara was the kind of person Josselin could talk to for hours without getting bored, and he had the feeling that behind Meara’s shyness and reserved nature were tons of interesting stories, just waiting to be heard.

“I don’t eat eggs, so that’s good,” Meara said. “It’s easier just to eat vegan when I go out.”

Josselin blinked and frowned in thought. “You don’t eat your own baked goods?”

“What?”

“In the café. You don’t eat the scones and stuff?”

“Oh, that. Yeah, I do! It’s all secretly vegan.”

“Really?”

“Couldn’t tell the difference, right?” Meara laughed.

“No,” Josselin said. He glanced over at his laptop. The clock in the corner read 7:43. They’d been talking that long?

“Well, I have to get back to work,” he said.

“Oh.”

Josselin could almost hear the disappointment in Meara’s sigh. Almost. Maybe. He wasn’t sure. Was he just projecting?

“Yeah,” he said. “But I’ll see you in the café tomorrow, and we’ll have lunch on Monday.”

“Sounds good. Have fun with your work. And… and have a good night.”

“You, too,” Josselin smiled.

They hung up and Josselin made a note in his calendar, although he knew he would never forget.

* * *

 

“Wait, why are you inviting me on your date?” Danny asked. Meara sighed and leaned against the wall, cradling the phone against his cheek.

“Because it’s not a date. He went to school for business and wants to see if he can help us out, and you do all that stuff, so you should be there. I’m not going to be your go-between.”

“Fair enough.”

Meara sighed heavily and ran his hand through his hair. He started to push his glasses back up his nose, but his fingers groped at empty air. Oh, yeah, he’d taken them off, hadn’t he? No wonder everything was blurry.

He grabbed them from the small shelf beside his bed that doubled as a table and slipped them back on again. Better.

“Do you want me to find a reason to skip out early? Or be late? Give you two some alone time?” Danny stretched out the ‘o’ in alone until it was almost four syllables. Meara laughed.

“Maybe if you could skip out early? I don’t think being late would reflect very well on either of us.”

“Well, Max has a checkup for his arm, so I can just leave a little early and say it’s that?”

“Thank you, Danny,” Meara said. It felt a little dishonest, but… Meara was so bad at this dating thing, and he didn’t know how else to go about it. If it went anywhere, he’d come clean. But for now it could be just between him and Danny.

“I got you, bro,” Danny laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come visit me on tumblr at indecentpause.tumblr.com for short stories, word of the day fics, Shakespeare memes, and writing jokes!


	5. Chapter 5

Josselin continued to order blackeyes with increasingly large numbers of shots, until it was almost all espresso and maybe an inch of coffee.

It was Sunday morning, and Meara brought out Josselin’s usual drink and scone, and he said, “You know, it would probably be cheaper to go back to your zombie and you’d get an equivalent amount of caffeine.”

Josselin grinned and looked up from his work. No buttercream on Meara’s face, this time, but there was a smudge of flour on his chin, like he’d scratched at an itch without washing his hands first.

He meant to say, _It’s okay, I like the hardcore blackeyes_ , but what he said was, “You have flour on your chin.”

Meara’s eyes went just a little wider, just barely, and he wiped at his chin with his knuckles. He chuckled a little and wiped the flour off on his apron.

“At least it wasn’t buttercream, this time. That stuff’s a mess. Gets everywhere.”

“I imagine the flour does, too,” Josselin said.

Meara wiped his now clean hands down the front of his apron, that familiar nervous gesture, and he opened his mouth when the doorbell rang and a small family walked in. He looked over his shoulder and called, “I’ll be right with you!” then back at Josselin and said, “Let me know if you need anything else, okay?”

 _That was the perfect opening to ask for a date,_ Josselin chided himself, but he didn’t say anything as he watched Meara rush back behind the counter to wash his hands.

Josselin went back to work, trying not to let Meara’s bustling behind the counter distract him. But it wasn’t the noise, it was Meara himself. The other man had a grace to him when he was working, a smoothness to his motions Josselin didn’t always get to see when Meara brought his order to the table. Meara’s jerky awkwardness behind the register turned into a kind of surety Josselin had rarely seen _anywhere_ , in Meara or not.

He smiled and took a sip of his blackeye. Super strong and super sweet and perfect. He went back to his laptop, but his eyes kept wandering over to Meara and his work, again, and again, and again.

* * *

 

Even though Meara would be taking the bus home, since Danny was only _leaving_ early, his partner offered him a ride there, at least. Meara gladly took it.

So they arrived at the same time to a small restaurant that looked like it seated maybe twenty at maximum capacity, with two large tables and a few small ones. Meara glanced around, taking in the décor -- paintings by local artists on one wall, sketches from patrons on napkins and receipts and scrap paper on another. The daily sides were written in pink and green on a chalkboard behind the cash register, and a small gap in the wall turned in sharply to what Meara assumed was a kitchen. A woman was behind the counter, keeping an eye on the door while she frosted a cake.

Her eyes darted up when the doorbell rang and she grinned.

“Have a seat anywhere.” She leaned back into the doorway behind her and called, “Addie, you’ve got customers!”

“We’re actually meeting someone --“

“Hi!”

Meara caught Josselin’s bright blue eyes for just a moment before his darted up to the bridge of the other man’s nose, where it was more comfortable.

“He’s here,” Meara grinned, thumbing in Josselin’s direction. The woman nodded. “But take your time. We’re here for a meeting as much as lunch, so we’ll be here a while anyway.”

The woman smiled gratefully. “Thank you,” she said. “We usually don’t get customers this early and we’re a little behind on the morning’s prep. Thanks for understanding.”

“No problem,” Danny smiled.

They took the two seats opposite Josselin, and Meara tried very hard not to think about the way Josselin looked at his hands folded in front of him on the table, like he wanted to reach out and touch them. Surely it was all in Meara’s head, right? He was just misreading the situation.

Danny pulled his laptop out of his briefcase and hunted for an outlet to plug it in. He found one just behind his seat and set up, then twisted the laptop so the screen faced Josselin.

“Here’s our cost versus profit,” Danny said. “It goes back to the day we opened. If you want an idea of how the construction has affected us, I suggest you start there.”

Josselin jumped at Danny’s abrupt start of the meeting. He’d expected some small talk, a little get-to-know-you banter first, but this _was_ their livelihood. They had every right to want to jump right into it.

As Josselin went through the files, Meara gave Danny a disapproving look. _Rude, Danny_ , it said. Danny shrugged.

“Josselin,” Danny said, turning back to him. Josselin’s glance darted up from the screen and back down again in acknowledgement.

“I have to leave to take my son to a doctor’s appointment at 1:00,” he said. “So after that it’ll just be you and Meara. So I wanted to get the nitty gritty details hammered out while I’m still here, so Meara doesn’t have to worry about being a go-between.”

Josselin’s eyes darted to his watch. “1:00 should be plenty of time.”

The waitress popped out about ten minutes later with water and to take their drink orders, then back in five to take their lunch orders. Meara let Danny and Josselin talk, uninterrupted, while he sipped at his hibiscus tea, listening closely but not fully understanding all the jargon.

“You’re on the right track with reducing your business hours,” Josselin said. He turned the laptop to all three of them could see the screen and pointed at the spreadsheet with his pinky. “As you can see here, you spend more on business costs like electricity and water on Mondays than you bring back in with profits. So you’re already started. You just need to find a few ways to pare down more while also finding new advertising venues to get people in despite the construction.”

Danny’s mouth twisted in thought. “Well, there are two bus lines right by us. Maybe we could look into how much that would cost?”

“I don’t know if you get to choose which buses your ad goes in,” Meara said.

“I don’t either.” Danny’s laugh was tired. He leaned his chin against his hand and his elbow on the table and suddenly the dark circles under his eyes were even more pronounced. “But it’s worth a look.”

“What about vegan magazines? Personal zines? Newsletters?” Josselin asked.

“What?” Danny looked up.

“I mean, Meara told me all your baked goods are secretly vegan. If you make it not so secret, you’ll be able to pull in a whole new market. Most times vegans just assume cupcakes and things have dairy and eggs and don’t think to ask.”

Meara shrugged one shoulder unsurely. “That’s true.”

Josselin frowned and pushed the laptop closer to the wall as the server returned with their lunches. He gave her a distracted ‘thanks,’ and said,

“Why are you so hesitant about it? Usually vegans are all about advertising the vegan… ness of their food.”

“We didn’t want to alienate anyone,” Danny said. “A lot of people think vegan baked goods are crap. We didn’t want anyone to make assumptions.”

He and Meara shared a look.

“But we’ve been established long enough that people know it’s good,” Meara said. “So maybe if we could find something published locally…”

Danny turned back to Josselin and said, “We don’t have an online store and we aren’t interested in one, so advertising in something nationwide would probably cost more than it was worth. But if we could find something local?”

“I’m on it,” Josselin said, and he went to typing furiously with one hand even as he held up his veggie burger with the other to take a bite.

Meara and Danny finally tucked into their own lunches. Meara hadn’t realized how hungry he was until the food touched his tongue: vegan mac and cheese, something he’d never quite gotten the hang of making at home. It was warm and gooey and delicious and perfect in the slight chill of the restaurant. Josselin hadn’t been typing for long, but by the time he paused and looked up, Meara was already halfway done with his dish.

“Is it good?” Josselin asked.

“What?”

“The mac and cheese. I always look at it but I’ve never had it.”

Meara stuffed another bite in his mouth and nodded. Danny laughed and smacked Meara on the back, once, friendly.

Soon Josselin had compiled a list of local vegan publications for Danny, and as it was nearing 1:00, Danny saved the document with the links and packed up to leave. Meara was done with his food, but Josselin, having been working the whole time, was barely a third of the way through his.

“Sorry I have to duck out so soon,” Danny said. “But, you know, kids and their tree climbing. He was going to break something eventually. I’m just grateful he’s putting up with the pain so well.”

Josselin laughed and wiped a few French fries in his ketchup, but didn’t put them in his mouth quite yet.

“Yeah,” Meara said. “Kid’s wearing it like a badge of honor.”

“I’ll see you both later.” Danny stood and pushed his chair back in. He waved as he turned away and called, “Thanks again, Josselin. I’ll look at all this tonight and get back to you tomorrow.”

Josselin nodded, letting out a muffled “mm-hmph,” around the fries now in his mouth and gave Danny a thumbs up.

The doorbell rang, and Danny was gone.

Meara turned back to Josselin, suddenly unsure of what to say now that he didn’t officially have a reason to be here anymore.

“You don’t have to wait for me,” Josselin said, looking down at Meara’s empty plate. “We’ve already paid. You can go if you have something to do.”

“I want to stay.” It came out too fast, too urgent, nervous. Meara cleared his throat into his hand and murmured, “If that’s okay.” He stacked his empty plate atop Danny’s and pushed them to the side.

Josselin smiled and perked up a little. He’d expected Meara to leave right after Danny, if not with him. Maybe he could salvage this and turn it into a date after all.

“D’you think you could fit some cake in there?” he asked. “All their cakes are vegan. I think the only baked things that aren’t are the brownies.”

“Yeah?” Meara said. “What do you suggest? This is my first time.”

Josselin looked over Meara’s head to the chalkboard with the daily specials. Strawberry-basil, chocolate caramel, and chocolate orange.

“Oh,” Josselin said. “This is going to be tricky. They have all three of my favorites!”

Meara laughed and folded his hands together, leaning his chin on them as he leaned forward on the table. “Well, if you had to pick a favorite-favorite?”

“Hm.” Josselin took another bite of his veggie burger to stall. “Give me a minute.”

Meara watched him expectantly as he ate, his head tilted slightly to the side, a small, content smile on his face. Was that smile because of him? Meara smiled all the time, but Josselin had never seen one quite like that before. Relaxed. Calm.

“What if we get a slice of all three and share?” Josselin finally asked.

“Like a cake tasting menu?”

“Exactly.”

Meara grinned and nodded. “I trust you with my dessert choice.”

* * *

The cake was delicious. Meara saw Josselin’s point: all three were totally different, but still fantastic in their own ways. He couldn’t pick a favorite, either.

He looked up from his last bite when Josselin chuckled. Meara hiked an eyebrow and mumbled “hm?” around his fork. Josselin thumbed at his left cheek.

“You’ve got buttercream on you again.”

Meara laughed and wiped it away.

“No, it’s still… here,” Josselin said, and he leaned across the table and when his thumb wiped across Meara’s cheek, Meara knew he had to be dreaming and he’d wake up any minute to get ready to go to lunch with Danny because why would Josselin, of all people, even _want_ to touch him?

Josselin leaned back, thumb sticking up with a slash of pink strawberry buttercream across it. He looked around a minute, then found his napkin crumpled up under the side of one of the plates and cleaned his hand.

“Josselin?”

Josselin looked up at Meara’s shaky voice. The other man was flushed bright, pinker than the buttercream Josselin had just cleaned up. It was only then Josselin realized how weird his actions were. He’d just felt so comfortable, and…

“Sorry,” he mumbled, putting his hands in his lap, where they couldn’t get into any more trouble.

“No, it’s --” Despite the protest, Meara looked like he was about to hyperventilate. His shoulders were shuddering and Josselin could hear each shallow breath in. “It’s okay,” Meara finally managed.

“Are you sure?” Josselin asked.

Meara nodded once, firmly. His shoulders were still shuddering. Josselin hesitantly reached across the table again and gently rested his hand on Meara’s arm.

“Hey,” he said. “It’s just me.”

“I know.” Meara’s voice was almost a fearful whine. His eyes were locked on his hands, curled up tight on the table. “That’s… that’s the problem.”

Josselin’s eyes widened and his hand jerked, but Meara hadn’t shrugged him away, so he stayed put for now. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Meara’s eyes darted up to Josselin’s forehead, over to his cheek, down to his own hands again. “I mean, you come in every day and order the same ridiculous drink that no real coffee drinker would ever think of touching and you order your scone flavors based on the day of the week and while you sit over in the corner working on your laptop you always hum along to the music no matter what it is and you kind of bounce a little, like you’re dancing, and your eyes are so _blue_ and it’s not fair how… how cute you are. Because I’m just me.”

Josselin’s hand tightened a little. Meara looked up, at the bridge of Josselin’s nose, like he always did.

“I like ‘just you,’” Josselin whispered. “A lot.”

For a half-second, Meara’s gaze shot down to Josselin’s eyes. “What?”

“A _lot_ ,” Josselin repeated. “I just was… afraid to say anything because my situation with Frankie makes it a little weird and I didn’t want to be that creeper who hits on the service worker who isn’t interested and if you said no I’d never be able to come in again.”

“You could,” Meara said weakly. “In the afternoons.”

Josselin chuckled.

“What?”

“That’s what Frankie said.”

Meara paused. “So… so, she’s really okay with you seeing other people?”

Josselin nodded. “I could text her if you want. If you want confirmation.”

Meara shook his head. “I trust you.”

“Are you okay with _me_ seeing _her_?” It was an uncomfortable question, but one Josselin had to ask.

Meara nodded. “I’ve never… I’ve never been in a situation like that before. But I don’t think it would be a problem, as long as you didn’t play favorites.” Even though Josselin had every right to. He and Frankie were together first.

Josselin smiled. “I don’t think I even _can_ play favorites,” he said. Meara smiled back. They paused a moment.

“Do you want to go out for a not-coffee?” Josselin asked. “I know a great little smoothie place not too far from here.”

Meara smiled back and nodded. “I’d love to.”

The September afternoon was warm, but not summer warm. It was at the lovely in-between where it wasn’t quite cold or hot, just the right temperature to curl up by the window with a book or for a nap. But Josselin’s knuckles bumping Meara’s were warmer, shy and soft against Meara’s hand, which was rough from kitchen work and washing.

They turned the corner and Meara saw the smoothie shop just down on the other side of the street, and it was only as they were pushing through the door that Josselin found the nerve to curl just one finger around one of Meara’s. But the hold broke almost immediately when Josselin waved at the teenager behind the counter.

“Hi, Josselin!” she chirped.

“Hi, Mary-Beth.”

“Your regular?”

“Yeah. But just give us a minute for the rest of the order. Meara’s never been here before.”

Meara bit his lip as his eyes scanned the menu above the cashier’s head. She’d already started Josselin’s, the thunk of frozen fruit and the whir of the blender cutting through the quiet of the store. He wasn’t really reading it. His mind was caught in a feedback loop, asking the same question over and over: _So, this is a date, right?_

He started when those soft fingers gently touched his wrist.

“You okay?” Josselin asked.

“Yeah,” Meara squeaked. “I just can’t decide what I want. What’s you’re favorite?”

“The blueberry-lime.”

“I’ll have one of those.” Meara cleared his throat awkwardly and nodded once. Josselin’s thumb was gently stroking the inside of his wrist now, what Meara took to be a calming gesture, but it just wound him up even more because his wrists had always been extremely sensitive. So Meara turned his hand in Josselin’s, bumping the other man’s thumb with the outside of his wrist as if to say, _Here instead._

Josselin moved his thumb away and gently ran his knuckles along the back of Meara’s hand instead, and Meara finally started to relax.

They took their smoothies to one of the two tables outside. Traffic was loud, but not so loud they couldn’t talk, and even though it was out in the middle of everything, with the wire chairs beneath them and the green and blue umbrella above, it was like being in their own private world, hidden from the public that didn’t care enough to slow down and look.

It was perfect.

Meara smiled. “So, this --” He reconsidered and interrupted himself with a sip of his smoothie. Josselin was right again: it was delicious. Sweet and tangy and a little bit tart.

Josselin looked away from the sidewalk he’d been watching across the way. “Hm?” he asked.

Meara shook his head, mouth clamped tight around his straw. Josselin frowned and his brow furrowed.

“Are you okay?”

Meara nodded, a little shy, maybe a little ashamed? But why?

It took a few moments of wheedling, but Josselin finally got the question out of him.

“This is a date, right?”

Josselin sat up a little straighter and smiled. “I hope so,” he said.

“Please don’t make fun of me,” Meara whispered. Josselin’s smile dropped. “I know it’s weird for someone my age not to know how to do things like this. But I came from a really homophobic and biphobic family and didn’t really start dating until I was college age, and even then, nothing serious that lasted any amount of time.”

Josselin stretched his hand across the table and gently wrapped it around Meara’s fingers, tugging them away from the cup. “I’m not making fun of you, Meara,” Josselin whispered. Meara looked up again, meeting his eyes for just that half-second before they darted back up to the bridge of Josselin’s nose. “I really do want this to be a date. I like you a lot. You’re adorable and sweet and I want to get to know you better and I was so happy when you called me when I was sick. To be honest, that note I left you was an attempt at this but I panicked at the last second and added the thing about the business meeting.”

“What?” Meara whispered.

“Like, I would have helped you guys anyway,” Josselin said. “Regardless. But I’d… my intention was for today just to be you and me.”

“Really?” Meara squeaked a little on the word and cleared his throat. His heart was pounding, his head was spinning. How could anyone make him _feel_ like this? He’d never been the most confident person, but how could anyone throw him off like this?

“Yeah.” Josselin’s voice was soft, his eyes cast down on his cup, not looking at Meara or their clasped hands. He blinked, then closed his eyes and took in a deep breath through pursed lips. Part of him didn’t want Meara to see the blush painting his face. The other part told him to lift his head and let Meara see it, that the other man would take it as a compliment.

Josselin finally lifted his head. His face was bright red and hot, but he was smiling.

Meara smiled back.

* * *

 

Since it wasn’t too far out of the way of his bus stop, Meara walked Josselin back to his apartment. They stopped at the gate, facing each other and fingers of both hands intertwined. Both had their eyes trained on their feet.

“I guess this is you,” Meara said.

“Do you have anywhere to be right now?”

Meara looked up, eyebrows hiked in curiosity. “What?”

“I mean,” Josselin looked up, too. “I mean, do you want to come up for a while? That’s what I meant to ask. I.”

Meara chuckled softly, but fondly. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. You just make me so nervous, Meara.”

“Well, don’t be.” Meara tightened his fingers on Josselin’s and lifted them to kiss the other man’s knuckles, but he stopped short. Josselin swallowed. Meara dropped his eyes again and closed the distance, pressing his lips to Josselin’s soft fingers just between the knuckles.

Josselin unwound their fingers and wove them into Meara’s shaggy curls. He pressed their foreheads together, testing. Meara didn’t pull away.

“Can I kiss you?” he finally whispered.

Meara opened his mouth, closed it again. Flushed bright red. Nodded.

Then, finally, after wanting to for weeks, Josselin kissed him. It was a soft kiss, a gentle press of lips and nothing more, but oh, it was exactly what he wanted.

Maybe only a few moments had passed when Josselin pulled away, but Meara leaned closer, letting out a soft breath as their lips parted. His eyes fluttered open. He’d been kissed before, but it had always been awkward and uncomfortable and rushed, like his boyfriends wanted to get it over with, already. But Josselin kissed him like… like he was special, and like he was worth kissing, and like he could stay there all day if their schedules allowed.

And today, they did.

“You said… you wanted to go up to your apartment?” Meara asked hesitantly, as if Josselin would rescind his invitation if Meara asked aloud.

Josselin grinned. His blush had calmed down somewhat, now that he was sure he and Meara were on the same page. Now just his cheekbones and the tips of his ears were pink. Meara smiled back.

* * *

 

Josselin’s apartment was a little cleaner now that he wasn’t sick and just dropping laundry and books wherever he felt like it. It hadn’t been that bad before, but the difference was noticeable, and the neatness made Meara a little ashamed of his messy hole in the wall of an apartment. But he didn’t have to invite Josselin over. He could come over here. Josselin had made that clear.

Josselin plopped down on the bed and kicked his shoes off. He smiled up at Meara as the other man sat in the chair across from him. Josselin patted the space beside him on the bed.

“You can sit here,” he said. Meara nodded and moved over. He was so close Josselin could feel the heat of him through their clothes. Their elbows bumped. Their hips almost touched.

God, he was like a middle schooler who’d brought his date home when his parents weren’t there! But Meara was so awkward and unsure. Josselin wanted to do this right. He was clearly the more experienced here, and he didn’t want to scare Meara off, or make him feel pressured, or threatened, or --

Josselin tensed when Meara rested his head on his shoulder. Meara tensed, too.

“Is this not okay?” he whispered. He started to pull away, but Josselin wrapped his arm around the other man’s waist to keep him there.

“It’s totally okay,” Josselin said. “So okay. Completely okay. The okayest.”

Meara chuckled and nuzzled a little closer, and the awkwardness evaporated.

They didn’t do much up in Josselin’s apartment. They watched Netflix for a while, and they talked, and they shared some slow, tentative kisses that were a little awkward at first because Meara couldn’t quite figure out what he was doing. But even so, when 6:00 came, Meara didn’t want to leave even though he knew he should. He needed to get home, he needed to call Danny about what he’d come up with from Josselin’s suggestions, he needed to eat. But every time he started to tell himself he was getting ready to leave, he’d follow it with, _Just one more episode_ or _Just a handful more kisses_ or _When we’ve finished this part of the conversation_.

But then it started getting dark, which meant it was nearing 8:00, and even though most of the buses in this area ran late, he didn’t want to stumble in his apartment door at midnight with work at 6:00 in the morning. So he said,

“Today has honestly been the most fun I’ve had in a long time. Even with the business meeting.”

Josselin chuckled.

“But I have to get going,” Meara said. “I have to catch the bus, and I have to open the store in the morning, and I have to get up around 4:00 to start the baking.”

“4:00 a.m.?” Josselin’s eyes went wide. Meara quirked an eyebrow.

“No, in the afternoon.”

Josselin laughed. “Okay, you’re right. That was a dumb question. I just didn’t realize you got up so early, I guess.”

“Cinnamon rolls don’t bake themselves,” Meara said. “It takes a while.”

“All right.” Josselin kissed the corner of Meara’s mouth. Meara turned into it, and it was the longest kiss they’d shared yet, but it wasn’t long enough.

But there would be time for that later.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Meara asked when they pulled away.

Josselin grinned. “9:00 sharp.”

Meara grinned like a fool the whole ride home.


	6. Chapter 6

One of Meara’s favorite things about living attached to his place of work, alone, in a business district where nobody was around until 6:00 at the earliest, was being able to blast any music he wanted in the kitchens early in the morning while he worked. He pulled his cinnamon roll dough out of the fridge -- he always made it in the evening and let it rise overnight -- and plopped it out on his workspace to roll out as he bounced around the kitchen. Meara’s music taste was wide and varied, and today he was listening to a local ska band he and some friends had played a few shows with back in his early 20s. Once upon a time he’d played guitar in a ska band, while he was studying under baristas and bakers in the mornings and Danny took night classes in a more academic setting.

Soon the kitchen was warm with the heat of the ovens and smelled of cinnamon rolls and vanilla cupcakes and blueberry scones. Meara shuffled around the trays on his cooling racks and pushed the cupcakes to the back, since they had to be fully cool to hold the frosting. When the cinnamon rolls were just warm, but not hot, he poured over the cream cheese vanilla glaze made by the recipe Josephine had brought with her when they hired her on. She’d been loathe to give it up, but Danny had made it worth her while and paid her a hefty sum for it.

Hopefully they’d be able to offer her more hours and bring her back at least part time in the afternoons so Meara didn’t have to be there all day.

Meara didn’t let himself dwell on the negative thoughts and went back to work.

He’d just finished putting out the cookies and had gone to work on the scones when Danny unlocked the front door. As it closed behind him, he flipped the business sign to ‘open,’ and they were officially ready to start their day.

Danny rushed by the counter with barely a hello. Meara popped his head up and asked, “What’s going on?”

Danny didn’t take Josselin’s seat this time, instead sitting at the table in front of it, closer to the door. He flipped his laptop open and said, “I need to schedule some meetings for this week. If it’s in the afternoon when it’s slower can you hold down the fort by yourself?”

“Probably,” Meara said. “I can call Josephine if you need to be there in the morning?”

Danny shrugged, but didn’t look up from where he was tapping furiously at his laptop. “Most of the people I want to see don’t open until 10:00 or so anyway. Afternoon’s no problem.”

“That should be fine.” Meara unwrapped the cupcakes he’d stored overnight and slid them into the bake case. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Danny said. “I’m just going to schedule some meetings with a few potential advertisers.” He looked up at his friend and continued, “We’re _so close_ , Meara. We just have to get to the end of October. Then the construction will be done and business should go back to normal.”

Meara brushed his hair away from his glasses and nodded. “Yeah. I know.”

“We can _do_ this.”

“I know.”

“You don’t sound like you know.”

“I’m just scared,” Meara said. He glanced over at the door, the floor to ceiling windows, to make sure nobody was about to come in. His watch read 6:07. In the past they’d always had a line. “You said yourself, we haven’t even broke even for the month yet --”

“I’ll pull from my personal funds if I have to,” Danny said. Meara’s head snapped up. “I’ll refinance my mortgage. We are _going_ to make it, Meara, if I have to pull from every fund and savings account I have.”

Meara’s shoulders relaxed a little. “Thank you, Danny,” he said.

“I have just as much invested as you do,” Danny reminded him. He held up a fist in solidarity. “We’re in this for the long haul.”

Meara held up his own fist and they mimed a bump across the room.

“We got this,” Danny said. “We are fucking awesome. I know sometimes you have trouble remembering that, so, just reminding you.”

“Maybe once we make it through this rough patch, I can hire an assistant baker,” Meara said.

“If you think you need one, I’ll make room in the budget.”

“I don’t really _need_ one,” Meara said, “but once we go back to regular business hours, it _would_ be nice to have a day off now and then.”

“We might keep the reduced hours for a while, see how things go,” Danny said. “We can maybe see if we’re where we’re supposed to be in a month or two and go from there.”

“Yeah.”

A middle-aged woman with a briefcase walked in, and Danny went quiet as Meara greeted her.

* * *

 

There were only a handful of customers between opening at 6:00 and when Meara slipped into the back to frost the cupcakes at 8:30. Maybe they could shave off an hour in the morning, too. Save some time and money.

But Meara would mention that to Danny later. Right now, his partner was on the phone with the editor of a local vegan newsletter, negotiating pricing and trying -- what sounded like unsuccessfully based on the frustration in his voice -- to explain what they were looking for. It all seemed pretty straightforward from what Meara could hear.

The doorbell went off and Danny huffed a heavy sigh, turning to Meara with pleading eyes.

“I’ve got it,” Meara said. He swiped his hand over his throat and continued, “Maybe write this one off as a loss and move on?”

Danny rolled his eyes and Meara chuckled as he headed to the front.

Josselin stood there, bouncing on his toes, looking up at the menu as if he didn’t already know exactly what he wanted. He probably had it memorized by now.

“Josselin!” Meara grinned. “You’re early.”

Josselin tapped his watch. “I’m meeting with Danny in fifteen,” he said. “He called me last night after you left. Figured I’d surprise you a little early!”

Meara laughed and glanced at the door. No customers. He leaned forward and Josselin met him halfway over the counter for a peck of a kiss.

“Danny must have been thinking the same thing, because he didn’t say a word about it.”

“That was my fault.” Josselin smiled sheepishly. “I asked him if it could be a surprise.”

Meara resisted the urge to boop his adorable nose.

“I think I’m going to go back to the zombie today.” Josselin hooked a stray strand of hair behind his ear. He’d have to fix his ponytail once he got settled.

Meara grinned. “All right.”

“Do you know what kind of scone I want?”

“What?”

“You said you noticed I ordered them based on the day of the week. So I was just wondering if you knew what Tuesday was.”

Meara’s grin broadened. “An orange scone, then.”

Josselin grinned back. “You’re perfect.”

Meara’s grin softened, but he flushed bright red and looked down at the cash register.

“At your job. You’re perfect at your job,” Josselin stammered, because Meara was going to find out he was a huge nerd eventually, but he’d been hoping he could keep his cool until they got a little more comfortable.

“Okay,” Meara said, in a way that made it clear he knew _exactly_ what Josselin meant. “You can sit down. I’ll get it started and let Danny know you’re here.”

Josselin took a step away, then paused. Meara looked up from where he was already pulling the espresso.

“Josselin?”

“Since there’s no customers here, do you mind if I just loiter here with you?”

Meara grinned and poured the espresso into one of the huge mugs they reserved especially for zombies. Six shots total, halfway up with coffee, the rest of the way with steamed milk, about a half inch of foam.

Meara didn’t say much, just enjoying listening to Josselin’s voice as he worked. Frankie was still in New Zealand, and had sailed out to an island known for its quokkas.

“I’ll have to show you the pictures later,” Josselin said. “They’re _adorable_.”

Meara laughed. “I’ve never even heard of a quokka.”

Josselin pulled his phone out of his pocket and did a quick image search. Meara leaned over the counter as he steamed the milk, squinting at first at the small picture and then breaking out into a huge smile. It _was_ adorable.

“The pictures are in my email. Maybe on your lunch break you can come sit with me and I can show you over sandwiches?”

Meara smiled wryly. “Asking me on another date already?”

Josselin twisted his foot and bumped his ankle against the other. “Ma~aybe,” he sang.

Meara took his eyes away from Josselin for the few seconds it took to pour the foam.

Today he didn’t go for subtlety. He drew a stack of three hearts on top of Josselin’s drink.

He handed the cup over a little hesitantly. “It’s pretty full,” he said, as if that was why he moved so slowly, and not because of the drawing he’d done for… his boyfriend? The guy he was seeing? What words were they using for this? They’d have to figure that out soon.

Josselin took it just as carefully.

“It’s hot,” Meara warmed. “And awkward. You’ll probably want two hands. I’ll plate up your scone while you take it over to your table.”

Josselin started to take a sip to lessen the risk of the coffee sloshing over the sides of the mug, and smiled when he saw the hearts, stacked one on top of another, the littlest one at the top. He looked back up at Meara, who was bent over grabbing a plate for his scone.

“You _are_ perfect,” Josselin whispered, and he wasn’t sure whether he was grateful Meara didn’t hear him.

Meara straightened just in time to see Josselin turn around with his mug. His steps were slow and careful, maybe too much so, in an attempt not to spill. Meara smiled and tried not to imagine both of them in oversized sweaters cuddling with hot chocolate on his bed in front of a scary movie, because he was a _professional_. Josselin might have been his own “it’s complicated,” but he still had to maintain his boundaries while he was at work, if only for the comfort of other customers.

Of which there were none, right now. Again. Meara’s mouth twisted as he looked at the door and he grabbed Josselin’s scone. He laid it down on the table beside the mug and was about to walk back to the counter without saying anything at all when Josselin caught his wrist, gently.

“Are you okay?”

Meara looked back at him with a sad smile. “Just worried. It’s been so slow today. It was nice, back when we were busy all the time, you know, to have a slower day every now and then.” He sighed. “But this is killing us.”

Josselin smiled, a sad, comforting smile. “Well, hopefully some of my suggestions can help. If you and Danny have any other questions, or think of something you need connections to or more information on, just let me know, okay?”

“Thank you, Josselin.” Meara lifted his wrist and kissed Josselin’s fingers.

Danny came out of the back, then, with his laptop tucked underneath his arm as he furiously typed something into his phone.

“Hey, Josselin,” he said, but it was distracted. Meara slipped his wrist out of Josselin’s grasp and took his hand to kiss his palm, then dropped it and took a step back.

“Danny?” Meara asked. He finally looked up from his phone, as if he only realized then how rude he was being.

“Sorry,” he said. “It’s just… ugh. Interns.”

Josselin’s face tightened in understanding. Danny’s phone went off and he looked back down at the screen. The lines in his face smoothed out a little and his shoulders relaxed. “I think I have it figured out now, though.”

Meara pulled out the empty chair and patted the back. “Sit down,” he said. “I’ll keep an eye on the store so you two can talk.”

“One of the construction workers asked for four dozen chocolate peanut butter cupcakes for an upcoming birthday party. I know we don’t normally take orders like that, but we need all the business we can get.”

“ _What_?”

Josselin jumped. Meara lowered his voice and ducked closer.

“When? Danny, you can’t just do stuff like this without asking me, I don’t know if I’ll have the time --”

“It’s for next week. Calm down. It’s all written down on the sticky note by the phone. You know I wouldn’t have taken anything for this week without asking you, first.”

Meara frowned and straightened, crossing his arms over his chest. “Still. Ask me next time, Danny. Even if I’m off, I live in the back of the store. You have literally no excuse for not tracking me down.”

Danny glanced up at him, annoyed at the fuss he was making, but then he saw the worry in Meara’s brow and his face softened.

“Sorry,” he said. “You’re right. I should have asked you. I was thinking of branching out into doing bigger orders, if you’re up to it.”

“Like, now? Or when business picks up again?”

“Now?” Danny asked, suddenly unsure. “I figured, if we make enough with the extra business it brings, with the new advertisements and everything, we could bring Josephine back to run the front end of things and you could spend all your time in the back?”

Meara hummed in thought and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “That _is_ what I’ve been aiming for all this time.” His fingers tapped against his arm as his eyes darted left and right while he went through his mental recipe catalog. “I was hoping we could branch more into bakery-café territory rather than just a coffee shop with a handful of options.”

The door opened and Meara’s gaze darted over his shoulder.

“We’ll discuss it,” Josselin said.

Meara smiled in thanks and turned, raising one hand and calling out, “Welcome! How are you today?”

The customer was a harried looking businesswoman, dressed to the nines, but her stockings and the bottom of her suit skirt were soaking wet.

“You would not _believe_ the morning I’ve had,” she sighed. Meara smiled condolingly. He was used to playing bartender and listening to people’s problems, and while sometimes it just got to be too much and started to play hell on his nerves, with how dead it had been, he’d started missing it.

“Maybe a good cup of coffee and a cupcake will start to turn it around?”

She laughed, a little strained, and nodded. “I’ll take the coffee. Soy cappuccino, dry. But I’ll pass on the cupcake. I’m vegan.”

Meara smiled. “So are the cupcakes.”

She paused, her hands still in her purse as he dug out her wallet. “What?”

“Everything in the bake case is, actually,” he said, gesturing over at the case in question.

Her eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth. A bright grin crossed her face and she said, “You’re serious!? Oh, my gosh, then, _yes_ , I would love a cupcake. I’ll take…” She paused to look into the case. Her eyes darted over the cupcakes and scones and muffins and -- “You have cinnamon rolls? Those are vegan, too?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Meara laughed.

“How many do you have? Is this all?”

Meara held up a finger and said, “Let me check in back and see what I have. I know I do, just not how much.”

He ducked into the back and pulled out his tray. He counted them by twos: including what he had in the bake case, he had two dozen exactly.

He popped his head out from behind the door and said, “We have two dozen. There’s plenty.”

“I’ll take them all.”

Meara tried and failed to hide his surprise. The woman laughed.

“If I’m going to be late for a meeting, I may as well bring treats.”

Meara was used to people stopping in even though they were late for class or work or appointments, but they usually weren’t this pleasant. He boxed it all up as best he could: each box only held six, since they didn’t ever sell more than that at once. He had to use two of their biggest bags to hold them.

“Don’t usually get orders this big?” the woman asked.

“We used to,” he said. “But since the construction on the tracks we’ve had to cut back a lot on what we bake because we just don’t have the customers anymore.”

“That’s awful!” The woman seemed genuinely distressed. When Meara gave her a quizzical look, she said, “I’ve seen a lot of businesses go down because of extended construction, a lot of businesses I liked. I don’t know how much it helps, but you can bet I’m going to Instagram the hell out of this cinnamon roll, and I’ll tweet about it, too.”

Meara grinned. “Thank you, ma’am. Really. That means a lot to us.”

She paid with a credit card and left twenty dollars in the tip jar, and when she swept out the door, Meara thought to call, “The best place for cabs is just down the street! Take a left at the light!”

“Thank you!” she called, and she was gone.

Meara wasn’t naïve enough to think it would change anything in the short run, but he couldn’t help feeling hopeful as she left.


	7. Chapter 7

Danny and Josselin’s meeting ran for hours, and Josselin stayed hours late to make up for it to get his own work done. Meara left him alone -- he knew he’d be annoyed if Josselin bothered him while he was trying to work -- but the little interactions still made his day. Josselin ordering a sandwich, a second drink, a third. Only the first was a zombie, thankfully. Meara would hate to have to call an ambulance. Josselin’s little smiles and the way his wrist flashed under the light when he dropped a single in the tip jar and the hitch of his voice when he said ‘thank you,’ like he wanted to say something else, although what, Meara had no idea. The way Josselin caught his hand and kissed his palm when Meara gave back the other man’s change.

By the time Josselin left at 4:00, Meara was head over heels. He hadn’t had many partners in the past, and none of them had lasted long, but he couldn’t remember ever feeling something like this for any of them so fast.

A nagging little voice he’d been able to quell until then murmured, _Just wait until he gets bored with you_.

Meara’s gaze fell to his feet and darted around the floor. He should sweep.

_He will, you know. Eventually. Like they all did._

Meara huffed softly in frustration, but didn’t say anything. There were customers in the shop, and he didn’t want to scare them off muttering to himself. He pushed through to the back and snatched the broom and dustpan from their corner. Danny looked up from his laptop and asked, “Are you --?”

But Meara stormed back out as Danny murmured, “Okay.”

Meara forced his shoulders and face to relax as he swept, so he didn’t seem off-putting in case somebody came in. Akasha had already picked up Roxie and Max, and a young woman with two small children and a few friends were huddled in the corner around one of the few round tables playing a game of some kind. Meara didn’t try to rush them out -- they worked hard for this to be a family friendly place, a safe place where people could come after school or work and just relax for a while. The only other people here was a middle aged couple on the couch, and they didn’t seem bothered, either, deep in conversation, giggling and flirting like teenagers. Meara smiled. Were they on a date? Were they married for years and just kept the spirit of their love young? Meara didn’t know, but either way, it gave him hope for himself and Josselin.

He finished sweeping and tucked the broom and dustpan behind the door.

* * *

 

The two groups and a new one of a handful of college students were still there when they closed, and Meara actually had to make an announcement:

“Hey, everyone,” he called over the chatter. “We close in about ten minutes, so please gather up and finish what you’re doing. Thanks.”

Two of the three college students rushed up to the register.

“Have you shut down your espresso machine?” one of them asked, almost panicked.

“Not until we lock the doors.” Meara smiled at her clear relief.

“Oh, thank god,” she sighed. Her friend nudged her and she laughed. “Sorry for the misplaced panic. My coffee maker broke and I haven’t been able to get a new one yet, and I have to be up late to get some projects done.”

“May I recommend the zombie?” Meara asked. “It’s not one of our most popular, but it’s my favorite: two cups of coffee, six shots of espresso, milk, and any flavor you like. If you get it hot, it comes with foam.”

“That sounds perfect,” she grinned. Her friend rolled his eyes, but he was smiling and getting out his wallet in preparation for his own coffee order.

They both ordered zombies, the woman cold, the man hot. Most people got them to sit in, and Meara had to split both drinks between two cups each.

“Sorry,” he said a little sheepishly. “Nobody’s ever gotten one to go before. I had to split it.”

The woman laughed. “We can manage,” she said. “If anything else, we’ll make our friends carry some, too.”

The man saluted with one of his cups and went back to his table to gather up his things.

* * *

 

Once Meara had locked the door, he ducked into the back and said, “Danny, can I get a hand cleaning up?”

Danny looked up from his work. He was chewing on a straw, since neither of them approved of gum in the kitchen.

“Yeah,” he said through closed teeth, so his straw wouldn’t fall. “Just let me save this stuff really quick.”

Danny met Meara back in the front of house with the broom while Meara shut down the espresso machine.

“So!” Danny said. Meara looked up. “I haven’t closed out the register yet, but it seemed like we had more foot traffic today?”

“Yeah,” Meara grinned. “It was awesome. I got to talk to other people than myself for a change.”

Danny laughed as he finished up his sweeping. There hadn’t been much. Meara had swept most of it up earlier, an the customers had been exceptionally clean, especially for college kids. He dumped the contents of the dustpan in the trash and punched in his manager code to start closing out the register.

“How did things go in your meeting with Josselin?”

“Just a minute.” Danny was shuffling bills between his hands. “Let me finish counting.”

Meara nodded and went back to the espresso machine. He glanced over to Josselin’s usual table, where of course he wasn’t, because he’d left two hours ago and they were closed. But his near-constant presence was comforting, now that they knew where they stood and they weren’t playing their awkward flirting game anymore. It was one of the few things he could count on in these times of financial insecurity.

Danny stuffed the bills in the bank pouch and slipped it in his laptop case to drop off on his way home. He closed the register with a knock of his hip and turned back to Meara.

“So, you were saying?”

“Your meeting with Josselin. How did it go?”

“Good!” Danny grinned. “He gave me the direct numbers to the advertising managers for a couple of the publications I was looking at. He even brought in some old issues of some of them so I could look them over and make sure they’re the kind of thing we want to advertise in. A couple look really promising. I just want to call them and see what their sales numbers look like to make sure we’re actually reaching people.”

“I’ll trust you to take care of it,” Meara said. He stretched his arms over his head and sighed softly when his back popped. Danny handed him the plastic wrap and Meara went to wrapping up the baked goods.

They went through the rest of their evening routine -- wrapping, storing, washing, cleaning -- mostly talking about how well the day had gone, comparatively. The business woman who bought the cinnamon rolls had really hiked their numbers, and while Meara wasn’t expecting her to have much clout with her Instagram or twitter accounts, he could still hope it would at least bring in her friends.

They would just have to wait and see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come visit me on [my tumblr](http://indecentpause.tumblr.com/) for short stories, exerpts of upcoming projects, moodboards, and more!


	8. Chapter 8

Meara woke at 3:30 the next morning, and it was so close to 4:00 he didn’t bother trying to get back to sleep.

His cupcakes froze well, so he changed into his uniform -- which was really just jeans and an unmarked green t-shirt, which Danny had picked because the color looked good on both of them -- and headed to the kitchen to get started on the order for the party next week.

He clocked in, though it was more just to keep track of how many hours he worked rather than for a paycheck, since he and Danny co-owned and split profits down the middle. But it was good to know how many hours they were both in the store, so they could better decide how to go about hiring more people, if they wanted to.

He put on his music, and with a bounce in his step, he got to work.

* * *

 

It was 5:50 when the knock came on the door. A man maybe his age dressed in business casual was outside. His knees were shaking a little and his arms were crossed over his chest. His face was ruddy. Was it that cold outside?

Meara shook his head and pointed to the store hours. _We open at 6:00_.

The man squeezed his eyes tight and pressed his hands together, as if praying. _Please?_

Meara sighed and double checked the clock. Ten minutes. He could make an exception, this once.

He unlocked the door and was hit by a sharp, cold, gust of wind.

“Wow, it’s cold out there!” Meara said.

“Unseasonably so,” the man said. “Thank you, by the way.”

“Sure,” Meara said. “My register won’t boot up until 6:00, though. It’s on a timer. So I can’t ring you up for anything for another ten minutes. You can sit in here and wait, though.”

The man grinned. “Perfect.”

Meara dipped back behind the counter and went back to putting out the cupcakes and things. “You on your way to work?” he asked. He wasn’t always the best at it, but he did try hard to make casual conversation with his customers. He’d been told it made them feel more at home, more comfortable, and Meara wanted that feeling of belonging in his shop more than anything else.

“Yeah,” he said. “First day. I was going to take the train, but I haven’t really been in this area for years and the transit website didn’t say anything about construction. Or, I didn’t see it.” He plopped down in one of the easy chairs and dropped his briefcase beside him. “I’m glad I left with plenty of time for screwups.”

“Where are you going?” Meara asked.

“Downtown. To the Loop.”

Meara pointed to the right. “If you follow this street, take a right at the light, that bus will take you to the Blue line. It takes about… fifteen minutes? But that’ll drop you right at Clark and Lake.”

The man grinned and ran a hand through his hair, mucking up it a little bit. But it was nothing a bit of water on his fingers wouldn’t fix for him later, so Meara didn’t say anything.

The ten minutes raced by, and Meara hadn’t noticed because he hadn’t been watching the door, but he already had a line forming. He unlocked the door and flipped the sign to open, gesturing them all in.

Meara barely had time to make small talk as he rushed through the line, trying to make it fast for people going to school and work but also trying not to rush people through and make them feel uncared for. Where was Danny? He still hadn’t had a chance to brew the decaf drip -- thank god nobody had ordered it yet -- and he could only ring through so many people at a time before he had to switch over to making drinks.

Finally, at 6:10, Danny came through the front door. He actually took a step back when he saw the line, and Meara called, “No, none of that. Get over here and get on register, please!”

Danny did, and between them they managed to clear out the line in just a few minutes.

“Where did all those people come fr --”

But someone else opened the door and Meara turned around to welcome them, interrupting Danny in the process.

They held their breath in increments as the morning passed, in case it was just a fluke, but people kept coming in steadily and business was almost back at the level it had been before the construction. They even had more lines, even if they were sometimes just two or three people!

* * *

 

Josselin came in at 9:00 to a full coffee shop. Every table was taken, even his usual. If he was going to stay, he’d have to share.

He approached the older woman who had seated herself at his table. She was reading a book and sipping at a cup of tea. Josselin made sure to put himself in her line of vision before speaking to her so he didn’t scare her. He didn’t look particularly threatening, but he could never be sure.

“Hi, ma’am?”

She looked up from her book, her mug of tea halfway to her mouth. She put it back down again. “Yes?”

“Sorry to bother you, but do you mind if I take the seat across from you with my laptop? I’ll be quiet.”

She sniffed and looked him up and down, examining him, then finally said, “I guess so, as long as you’re quiet. I don’t like to be disturbed while I’m reading.”

“Of course,” Josselin smiled. “You were here first.”

She finally smiled and nodded, and she went back to her book. Josselin set up his laptop and went to the counter. He actually had to get in line! This was fantastic, it meant they were doing better already!

Danny was behind the register when Josselin finally approached the counter. Meara was whipping out drink after drink, mostly in to-go cups.

“Hi, Danny!” Josselin grinned. “I take it the advertising has helped?”

Danny shrugged, but he was grinning. “I actually haven’t placed any ads yet. I was going to meet with some of the publications later today, but I might not be able to if our other barista can’t come in. I don’t know _where_ this is coming from. I’m grateful for it, though.”

“Hm,” was all Josselin said, before Meara called out, “Caramel zombie and a cinnamon scone.”

Danny turned to Josselin and Josselin grinned. “He’s right.”

Danny plated the scone and handed it over as Josselin handed Danny his credit card.

“The drink will just be a few minutes. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“Thank you.”

Josselin sat back down at his laptop with one last smile at the woman across from him, but she was too deep in her book to notice. He looked down at the screen and opened up his browser, where he googled the café name to see if he could find a reason for such a boom in business so quickly. Why it was called Sara’s Sweets when nobody named Sara worked there was beyond him. Maybe she was a relative, or a close friend. Maybe they just liked the way it sounded. He’d have to remember to ask Meara about that when he had a minute.

Most of it was the same as what Danny had shown him -- the café website, restaurant reviews, advertisements. But there was something new. A food blog called Cool Vegan Eats. He clicked on it and it led to an entry with a photo of the café from the outside and a very well taken picture of a cinnamon roll and coffee. Whoever this woman was, she _raved_ about it. Josselin checked the date at the top of the entry. Yesterday. There were already over 50 comments. Josselin knew the majority of comments on things like this came within the first week and tended to peter off after that, but still, 50 in less than twenty-four hours was pretty good for an unknown food blogger! He unplugged his laptop and brought it up to the finally empty counter.

“Danny!” he called. Danny popped up from behind the cash register with a sleeve of cups in his hands.

“Yeah?”

“Did you see this?” He put his laptop down and turned it toward Danny. Danny’s brow furrowed in concentration as he speed-read through the entry, and he glanced over to Meara.

“Hey, Meara! Have you seen this?”

“Seen what?” Meara finished the last of the drinks and placed it up on the bar. “Soy caramel mocha for Jon!”

He leaned over to peer at the laptop. His eyes went wide and he gently pushed Danny to the side. “Let me see that,” he said. He scanned through the webpage, finally finding and clicking an ‘about me’ on the bottom. There, next to a short paragraph, was a picture of the woman who had come in and ordered all their cinnamon rolls yesterday.

“I remember her,” he said. “She was soaking wet. Must have gotten splashed by a car or something. But she’d been having a really bad day.”

“It looks like your cinnamon rolls turned it around,” Josselin said, taking back his laptop.

“Guess so,” Meara grinned. He paused. “Hey, Josselin?”

Josselin looked up. “Hm?”

“Could you email her and see if she takes advertisers, and if she does, if she’d be willing to talk to Danny? Maybe this is what we need instead of print media.”

“It’s instantaneous,” Danny agreed. “And we can go month by month instead of just one print run. I’ll have to hire a graphic designer to make some kind of banner or something.”

“I can do it,” Josselin said.

Meara and Danny both turned toward him.

“You can?” Danny asked.

Josselin grinned. “I can do a little bit of a lot of things. I’ll whip something up and see what you think, see if it’s something you like. On the house, as a favor to you.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Danny said. “You’ve already helped us so much.”

“It’s a good thing you’re not asking, then, isn’t it?”

Meara burst out into uproarious laughter and Josselin grinned at the bewildered look on Danny’s face.

“Fine,” Josselin said, “then consider it a birthday present.” He turned away to hide the flush on his nose. Meara’s laugh was beautiful.

* * *

 

Josselin stayed until the woman across from him left, and he stayed until the business from everyone going downtown slowed down, and he stayed until two kids who looked nothing like each other but simultaneously both remarkably like Danny came in and hopped up on the stools at the bar. The boy proceeded to spin in circles until Meara caught his shoulder and stilled him.

“You keep doing that and you’ll puke,” he said.

So Meara knew them, if he could touch them with that level of familiarity. Were these Danny’s kids?

Josselin stayed where he was, not wanting to overstep his bounds. He’d wait until Meara or Danny called him over and --

“Josselin!” There it was. He looked up at Meara’s call to see him gesturing him over. “Come meet Danny’s kids.” Meara turned back to the two and said, “Your dad will be right back. He just went to run a bank drop.”

“Okay!” the boy shouted. The girl was already nose deep in a textbook, her pencil poised above a worksheet.

Josselin saved his file and walked up to the counter, unsure of whether he should step behind to be with Meara or up beside the kids. Finally he stepped up to the end of the counter at Meara’s gesturing. The boy stuck out a freckled arm in front of the girl’s nose. She started and shot him a look that wasn’t quite a glare.

“I’m Max!” he said. “Danny’s my dad. This is my sister, Roxie. She can’t talk, but she can hear.”

Josselin shook Max’s hand and said, “Hello, Max. Roxie. I’m Josselin. Your dad’s a friend of mine. Kind of. Business partner?”

Meara laughed. “How about ‘all of the above?’”

Josselin thumbed in his direction. “I’m Meara’s --” He hesitated, unsure of what language he should use. Danny had said his kids were twelve, more than old enough to understand boyfriends and girlfriends and dating and crushes. But did they bring the dating lives of the adults around them into their space?

Meara looked a little hurt that Josselin had paused, so Josselin barreled on, hoping he wasn’t putting his foot too far down his throat. “My boyfriend.”

“Ohhh,” Max said, nodding wisely. Roxie didn’t seem bothered by any of the conversation, face deep in her book. “Yeah, I overheard Dad telling Mom about you. Only he calls you the zombie.”

Josselin chuckled and nodded. “That’s the name of my drink.”

Max swiveled back to Meara. “Can I try one?”

“Try one what?”

“A zombie?”

“I don’t think so,” Meara chuckled. “Your mother would kill me.”

“She doesn’t have to know!” Max sang.

“Yes she does. We both know that’s never going to work.”

Max pouted. “Can I at least have my smoothie?”

Meara ruffled his hair and ducked down to grab the soymilk. “Sure, kiddo. You want one, Roxie?”

Roxie finally looked up from her book and nodded.

“What kind?”

She held up a hand curled to look like a ‘C.’

“Caramel?” Meara asked.

Roxie grinned and nodded again.

As Meara went to work, Josselin sat down next to the twins.

“Do you know sign language, Roxie?”

Roxie gave Josselin a long look, as if searching for mockery, and finally shook her head.

“She has a - pha - si - a,” Max said, enunciating each syllable carefully to make sure Josselin caught the whole word. “She can’t make words.”

Roxie pushed a piece of paper in front of Josselin. In the corner was scribbled, messy and hard to read, _And_ _I am not a good speeler._

“Well, that’s okay,” Josselin said. “I’m sure you’re good at other things. Spelling isn’t everything.”

“She can identify any plant in the forest preserve!” Max bragged.

Roxie smiled, just a little, and nodded again before she went back to her book.

“And she can bake! Dad said if she wants, when she turns sixteen she can work here!”

“Do you want to do that, Roxie?” Josselin asked.

Roxie shrugged. She snatched the paper back from Josselin to write another message.

_I might. I wod bake with Mera. It wood be good to work with pepul who unerstand._

Josselin nodded. “That’s true.”

“And mom and dad help her with spelling for her assignments. They look over it and fix any mistakes,” Max said. “Sometimes I help!”

Josselin smiled. “That’s really great of you, Max.” He looked back at Roxie. “So you have plenty of workarounds, and lots of other things you’re good at.”

Max beamed. Roxie didn’t look up from her book, but a smile tugged at her cheek nonetheless.

Meara slid Roxie her smoothie and plopped Max’s down in front of him.

Josselin turned when the door opened, but it was just Danny, with an empty bank bag and his laptop case thrown over his shoulder.

“Hey guys! Roxie! Max!” He approached them from behind and smacked a big, loud kiss on the back of each child’s head. Max wrinkled his nose and ruffled his hair. Roxie smiled.

“Hey, kiddos,” he said. “This is --” He gestured to Josselin, and Josselin interrupted.

“We’ve met.”

“Meara introduced us!” Max said.

“Max,” Danny said, “where’s your homework?”

Max wilted a little. “In my backpack.”

“Well, get it out and get to work, because we’re going to Grandma’s for dinner tonight, and you know we always end up staying late.”

Roxie’s and Max’s heads jerked up, both of them wearing huge smiles.

“We’re going to see Grandma!?”

Danny looked over their heads to Meara and said, “Mom said you’re invited, too, if you want.”

A bright grin spread across Meara’s face. “I would love to.”

* * *

 

The rest of the day came and went as it usually did, but with more customers, and more lines, and more restocking, and even a second bake in the afternoon. Josselin left at four and Akasha picked up the kids shortly after, and when they finally closed up shop at five, they had to take a minute to sit and relax because they weren’t used to this kind of business anymore.

“So,” Danny said.

Meara looked up from his tea, across the table to Danny and his coffee. Danny drank coffee like it was water, but Meara tried to stop around noon. Otherwise he’d never get to sleep.

“Hm?”

“You and Josselin are dating now?”

Meara grinned. “Yeah!” He cleared his throat a little at the squeak at the end of the word. Danny chuckled, but didn’t say anything. “Not exclusively. Josselin doesn’t do exclusive… ness. He’s also dating that woman he came in with that one time. But they have an open relationship because she’s rarely in town, so…”

Danny’s brow furrowed and he took a sip of his coffee. “And you’re okay with that?”

“I think so,” Meara said. “I mean, when she gets back into town I would like to meet her. But she’s been overseas, so right now it can’t be helped.”

“Okay.” Danny nodded. “I mean, if it works for you, it works for you. I just wanted to be sure you weren’t settling because you thought you had to.”

Meara shook his head. “I don’t feel that way. At least, not right now. It’s only been a couple of days, so it’s hard to say yet, you know?”

“Well,” Danny said, “you know my take. Open and honest communication. Anything else, you can work around, as long as you have that.”

“Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends and readers! Most of you found me from Tumblr, but in case you came from somewhere else, why don't you visit me there, too, at [indecentpause](http://indecentpause.tumblr.com)! I have short stories with these characters and others, word of the day drabbles and ficlets, moodboards, playlists, and more! I'd love to see you there!


	9. Chapter 9

The next day was just as busy, and the next, and the next, and while Danny and Meara had expected business to die down after a few days, they were pleasantly surprised, and the customer traffic kept up. Josselin still came in every day, and he’d started staying later so he could have a quick chat with the kids before he left, and before long, Max and Roxie were begging Danny to invite him over too, the next time Meara came.

Then, at the beginning of October, Frankie came back into town.

Josselin had told Meara, at one point, when she was going to return from her trip, but with how busy he had been at work, the dates all blurred together and it completely slipped his mind until she and Josselin entered the coffee shop together one grey morning in early October, hand in hand.

The pang of jealousy Meara had expected never came. Instead, he was just glad to see Josselin so happy that his girlfriend was home, even though, from what it sounded like, she never stayed long. Instead, he was grateful Josselin liked him enough to want to extend his love, or, if it wasn’t love yet -- it couldn’t be, could it, not this fast? -- his life, to include Meara, too.

Josselin adjusted the laptop bag over his shoulder as Frankie bounded ahead a few steps to peer into the bake case. Meara waited until her attention turned to him, and he smiled.

“Hey,” he said. He extended a hand over the counter. “I’m Meara. I don’t think we’ve properly met yet.”

Frankie grinned and shook his hand brightly. “Frankie,” she said. “So you’re the guy who’s been making my boyfriend so happy while I’ve been away. Thank you.”

The sleeves of her white sundress were short, barely straps at all, and while she was wearing a sweater, it slid down her shoulders and showed off part of the ink coloring her skin. She didn’t have tattoo sleeves, exactly, more like a number of smaller, separate ones that happened to run together. They were everywhere, on her arms, her chest, her throat. Her legs, too, Meara remembered from the last time she came in.

Josselin slipped up to Frankie’s side, looked up at Meara’s face, and seemed to think better of it and dropped his hand. Meara tried very hard not to frown. Josselin didn’t do this last time. Had Meara done something to make him uncomfortable?

“My usual,” Josselin said. He scratched the side of his nose and squinted at the menu board behind his reading glasses. “Do you have pumpkin spice?”

Meara shook his head. “Surprisingly, it was never a big seller for us. It cost us more to buy than we made selling it.”

Josselin looked over at Frankie with a shrug. “I was only asking because I knew you wanted to.”

Frankie laughed and gently shoved him with her shoulder. Meara wished there weren’t a counter between them, that they could all sit around a table together and talk. But if not now, maybe later.

“That’s okay,” Frankie said. “I’ll take a cappuccino.”

“Wet or dry?” Meara was in the habit of asking. It was a polite way of finding out if the customer knew what a cappuccino was or if they actually wanted a latte.

“Bone dry,” Frankie grinned. “Thanks for asking. Most don’t. With just the tiniest amount of cinnamon syrup, if you have it?”

“That we do have.”

“Just a half-pump, if even that.”

Meara grinned. “No problem.” His eyes darted up when the doorbell rang and a couple walked in, hand in hand. He plated up Josselin’s regular scone and slid it down the counter, rang them up, and said, “If it’s slow enough I’ll bring it out. If not, I’ll call you.”

Frankie gave him an exaggerated wink and a thumbs up, and Meara rang up the next customer and started on the orders.

Since only the couple had come in, Meara brought the drinks out to Frankie and Josselin. Josselin looked into his mug to see what Meara had drawn for him today. It was a turtle with a heart on its shell. So whatever that face had been when he pulled his hand away from Frankie hadn’t been from discomfort?

Meara dropped a kiss on Josselin’s head and straightened his back. “I wish I could stay around and talk, but we’ve been a lot busier recently.” He knocked twice on the wooden table between them. Josselin and Frankie mimicked him, and Meara grinned.

“Maybe we can get together for dinner tonight?” Frankie asked. “If you don’t have any plans. I know Josselin doesn’t.” She nudged Josselin’s calf with her foot. He smiled.

“I’d love that, if you’re up to it,” he said. “I’d like you two to get to know each other better.”

“Are you okay with that?” Frankie asked. Josselin’s eyes darted from her, scooping out a spoonful of foam, back to Meara, to look for any signs of tension or nervousness. Frankie was totally at ease, and Meara wasn’t showing any more anxiety than he typically did. Josselin held his breath in the back of his throat.

“Sure,” Meara said. “I’d love to. Where at?”

“What’s easy for you to get to?” Josselin asked.

Meara shrugged. “I can get anywhere, really. I just don’t want to be travelling for, like, hours.”

Frankie laughed and Josselin tapped his cheek. “How about the diner where we met with Danny?” he asked. “That was easy enough for you, right?”

“That was fine. How late are they open?”

“10:00.”

“Maybe 8:00?” Meara said. “7:30? We close at 5:00 but we’ll need time to clean and shut everything down and go over the numbers.”

“7:30’s good,” Josselin said. “If anything, if we’re there late and the bus stops running, I’ll pick you up a cab. Where do you live?”

Meara thumbed at the employee door by the restroom. “In the back.”

Josselin’s eyes widened. “Really? There’s an apartment back there?”

“Yea --”

The door bell rang again and Meara looked over his shoulder.

“Got to go,” he said. “If I don’t get a chance while you’re still here, I’ll see you tonight!”

Frankie and Josselin both watched Meara go, and when Josselin turned back, Frankie was grinning at him, wide and bright and showing all her teeth.

“He seems promising!” she sang.

Josselin smiled back. His ears flushed a little, but hopefully his hair covered it. If not, Frankie would never shut up about it.

“Yeah,” he said. “He’s really sweet. We’re still getting to know each other on more than a superficial level, and I’m not totally sure where we stand _in_ a relationship? But I called him my boyfriend the other day and he seemed pleased by it.”

Frankie shot him a pair of finger-guns and winked. “Good, good. And he seems okay with me?”

“He’s never said otherwise. He was more concerned you wouldn’t be okay with him.”

“Excellent! I know you’ve been crushing on him for a while. The first you told me about it, I was in Germany, so that would make it… three months?”

Josselin chuckled bashfully and rubbed the back of his neck. Frankie’s smile softened and she took his other hand.

“I’m glad you two are getting along so well so far,” she said softly. “I always hoped you might meet someone local you could spend time with when I’m not around. You know I love you, Josselin, but I can’t --”

“I know. When you’re stuck in one place for too long, you start to feel trapped.”

“Yeah. And I couldn’t stay here with you and end up holding it against you. It would kill me.”

Josselin squeezed her hand and took a sip of his drink. “I know,” he finally said. “And I would never ask you to.”

“That’s one of the reasons I love you so much,” Frankie said. She kissed his knuckles and let go of his hand, wrapping them around her mug. She settled a little more comfortably into her chair and hummed softly.

“There’s nothing like a hot drink in autumn,” she said.

Josselin smiled at her cold-flushed cheeks, her pink lips, her disheveled blonde hair.

“Yeah,” he said, and he took a sip of his own.

* * *

 

Meara had been clock-watching since Josselin and Frankie had asked him to dinner. Business had slowed down again, so Meara was in the front of the store by himself for most of the afternoon while Danny did research and made business calls in the back. But Danny still noticed Meara’s eyes on the clocks when he ducked in the back to frost the morning’s cupcakes, and when he came out to spend the hour with his kids until Akasha could pick them up. When they shut down at 5:00, Danny cornered him with a hiked eyebrow and asked, “What are you looking forward to so suddenly?”

“I’m having dinner with Josselin and his girlfriend tonight.”

Danny’s eyebrow raised a little higher. “So she is his girlfriend?”

Meara nodded, worrying his apron between his hands. Danny had been his best friend since they were small. They’d even experimented with kissing together when they were in high school. Danny wouldn’t judge him, right?

“And he’s also seeing you?”

Meara nodded again. Danny’s face and voice softened.

“And you’re okay with that?”

“I think so?” Meara said, more hesitantly than he would have liked. “We went over this already, Danny. It’s fine.”

“You don’t sound very sure.”

“No, it’s okay,” he said. “She seems nice. I think we could easily end up being friends.”

“Do they want more than that?” Danny asked.

Meara’s face flushed bright red. “I don’t… that didn’t even cross my mind. I’m dating _him_ , not _both_ of them. Right?”

Danny shrugged one shoulder. “I assume so. But it’s maybe something you should clear up with them.”

Meara’s eyes darted down to Danny’s shoulder. “I’m not comfortable with women,” he said. “Romantically, sure. But not sexually.” It was why his few relationships with women in the past had plummeted so badly and so fast. A lot of people didn’t understand the distinction between biromantic and homosexual and didn’t care to, finding it easier to assume he was just plain bisexual.

Danny gently patted Meara’s shoulder. Meara looked back up to his face again.

“Josselin seems smart and open enough that he should understand,” Danny tried to reassure him. “I’m just saying, make sure you’re all on the same page. That’s all.” He mussed his hand through Meara’s hair and pulled back. “Come on, we’ve got a shop to close up and a dinner to get you to. You need a ride? Where is it?”

“The place we had our meeting with him.”

“That’s not too far out of my way.”

“You sure?” Meara didn’t want to keep him away from his family.

“No problem,” Danny grinned. “I just can’t get you back.” The _unless it’s an emergency_ went unstated. They both knew Danny would be there kicking down the door if Meara needed it.

* * *

 

The diner was a lot busier in the mid-evening than it had been when they’d met for lunch. Meara supposed he was happy for them: he and Danny were still close to closure, and that one surge of business hadn’t been enough to keep them floating for long. He understood how important the rushes were, even if they could get rough.

He peered around the small restaurant for Josselin and Frankie, but didn’t see them anywhere. The same woman as last time approached him and asked, “How many, sir?”

“There’s going to be three, but just me right now,” he said softly.

“I’m sorry?” She leaned closer. He repeated himself, a little louder. “No problem!” she grinned. “Sorry, it’s just a little loud right now. Let me get you a table and I’ll grab you a water while you wait.”

Meara smiled, and before he could say “Thank you,” she had turned around and was leading him to a table.

She sat him in a small, cozy, four-person booth. Meara smiled at her gratefully. It was the perfect space for a date, even though she’d have no way of knowing that was why he was here.

He checked the time on his phone. 7:30. So, they still had some time. Josselin, at least, took the bus, and why would Frankie have a car if she was rarely here to use it? They should be walking in the door any minute.

The server brought him a glass of water and he opened the menu to peer through. He didn’t remember much of what was on it from last time. That hibiscus tea had been delicious though, so he ordered one to sip on while he waited.

7:35 came. 7:40. 7:45. Meara frowned at the time on his phone. Should he text Josselin to double-check the time? He _had_ said 7:30, right? He tried to play back the conversation in his head, but there had been so much going on… but he didn’t remember saying anything other than that.

He opened a new text and typed in Danny’s number. He’d had it memorized for so long, by now it was faster to punch it in than to go through his contacts.

_They’re not here yet. Should I text them?_

Danny’s text back was almost instant. They hadn’t sat down to dinner yet, then. _The fuck? Yes text them, they’re fifteen minutes late!_

Meara sighed and bit his lip. He opened up another text and scrolled through his contacts for Josselin’s number. The front door chimed as it opened. Meara looked up. It was Josselin and Frankie. Josselin scanned the room and Meara waved to catch his attention.

Josselin’s face was bright pink and screwed up in distress. Frankie’s normal smile was gone, replaced by a frown, her brow furrowed together.

“I’m so sorry,” Josselin said. “There was a car accident and the bus got rerouted and I forgot my phone so I couldn’t text you. I’m so glad you’re still here. Is it okay if I put your number in Frankie’s phone in case this happens again?”

“Promise I won’t use it unless you want me to,” she said. “Scout’s honor.”

Josselin and Frankie slid into the seat across from Meara. Meara’s eyes darted between the two, a little flustered by all the sudden commotion. Finally, he nodded and said. “Okay. To, uh, all of that. That’s fine. I mean, it’s okay.”

Josselin’s shoulders finally relaxed. They heaved with each breath, and Meara realized he and Frankie must have run here from the bus stop. Frankie was less frazzled than Josselin seemed to be, but her hair was in disarray. But it was endearing, and it was cute, and Meara was almost glad they were in a hurry. It meant they cared.

He pushed the menus closer to them and they each took one. Josselin took a deep drink from the glass of water in his spot and wiped the condensation on his forehead. Frankie took a much more controlled sip of hers.

“Have you ordered yet?” Josselin asked.

“No.” Meara shook his head. “Just the drinks. Just water for you, I didn’t know if you’d want coffee this late…”

“This is perfect.” Josselin smiled back. “I do sometimes drink coffee this late, but your zombies have spoiled me. Nobody else makes them sweet enough.”

“Aww!” Frankie cooed, dropping her head to Josselin’s shoulder.

“He was being literal,” Meara chuckled. “He asks for so much sweetener. It’s obscene.”

“Teeth-rattling sweet is what I call it,” Frankie laughed, sitting up straight and wiggling into her spot to get more comfortable.

“I didn’t realize this was going to be ‘let’s all pick on Josselin’s tastes’ day.”

“It’s always ‘pick on Josselin’s tastes’ day,” Frankie laughed. She picked up her menu and started peering over the options. “It’s changed a lot since I was here last. Do they have anything with real cheese? I don’t like that vegan stuff.”

Josselin leaned over and pointed at something on Frankie’s menu. “You can switch them out, whichever you want, as long as it’s a garnish and not a sauce.”

Her eyes locked on his finger and darted back and forth a few times. “Awesome.”

They ordered not long after, and when the server took their menus away, Frankie crossed her arms over the table and leaned in. Meara mimicked the action, and finally, Josselin followed suit.

“So,” Frankie said softly, just able to be heard above the noise of the restaurant. “Josselin and I are banging.”

“Frankie!” Josselin sat up straight, bright red, mouth agape. Meara cleared his throat and looked down to hide his own blush.

“He needs to know!” Frankie protested. She turned back to Meara and continued. “You don’t have to join us. Whatever you and Josselin end up getting up to or not getting up to is fine. But you need to be aware of that, and that it’s not changing. Are you okay with that?”

Meara coughed once into his hand to stall as his mind worked it over.

“I’m pretty sure I’m okay with that,” he finally said. “I mean, I think I kind of figured it even though nobody said anything.” He looked up at Frankie, at the bridge of her nose. “As long as you don’t expect me to join you, that’s fine.”

Frankie’s smile came back and she nodded. Josselin relaxed a little, but his face was still bright red.

“And you don’t have to tell me what you guys get up to when I’m not around, if you don’t want,” Frankie continued. “As long as it’s nothing that would put anyone in danger.”

Meara rubbed his shoulder and shook his head. His face was on fire with embarrassment, his neck and shoulders and chest burned. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

Frankie leaned a little farther back in her seat and put her hands up. “That’s it for the potentially embarrassing stuff,” she said. “Sorry. But it had to be talked about. We can move on if you want.”

Meara nodded and Josselin coughed out a “Yes, please.”

* * *

 

They lingered over their appetizers so long, their meals came before they were ready, so they pushed the chili cheese fries to the side. Once their server had gone, Meara swapped his plate with the fries so he could finish them off. There wasn’t that much left, anyway, and they were _so good_. Frankie had even agreed to get vegan cheese because that was what Meara liked.

For hours, they talked and nibbled at their plates, another veggie burger for Josselin -- did he have regulars everywhere he went? -- and falafel wraps for each Meara and Frankie. They talked about Frankie’s adventures, about what Meara did for a living, about how he and Danny had decided to start up a vegetarian coffee shop of all things and how their business had been going.

“It’s… going,” Meara said. He took another bite of his wrap and chewed thoughtfully as he considered where to go from there. “The past week has been better, but still not where it was before the construction. Danny mentioned maybe closing down until it ends on November first and having a grand reopening then. We’d use the time to work on new menu options, run the numbers and pare down on things we don’t sell much of, things like that.”

“Is this for sure?” Frankie asked.

Meara shook his head. “Not yet. But we’re both seriously considering it. It would save us a lot of money and we’d be able to push through at least another month afterward, even if business didn’t pick up right away.”

Josselin hadn’t said anything, just considering his veggie burger. He bit off a piece of spinach falling off the side and finally spoke. “Well, if you need anything, let me know. I’ll do my best.”

Meara shot Josselin a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“If you decide this is going to be a sure thing before I book my next flight, I’ll hang back and help, too,” Frankie said. Meara looked up from his falafel, eyes wide, paused mid-chew. Finally he found himself and swallowed.

“Really?”

Frankie grinned. “Sure! I don’t know how much help I can be, but I’ll do anything I can. This isn’t just some cool local coffee shop. This is your livelihood. Of course I’m willing to help.”

Meara didn’t argue. He didn’t say, _but you barely know me_. Instead, he smiled, nodded, and took another bite of his wrap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost there! Thanks for sticking with me this far, and I'll see you next Monday for the final chapter!
> 
> In the meantime, come visit me at [indecentpause on tumblr](http://indecentpause.tumblr.com/) for info on my many current WIPs, moodboards, excerpts, updates, and more!


	10. Chapter 10

Danny was in an hour early the next morning. He swept into the back while Meara was putting the cupcakes in the oven, and Meara started, head darting up at the clock. 5:00. Okay, he wasn’t behind. Good.

“Danny, what are you doing here so early?”

“I was looking over the numbers last night with Josselin after your date,” Danny said.

“You met up with Josselin?”

“We talked on Skype.”

Meara nodded, closed the oven door, and set the timer.

“But it looks like closing down a few weeks will be our best option,” Danny continued. Meara frowned. Danny turned around at Meara’s silence, and his face softened at his friend’s expression.

“This could be a blessing in disguise,” Danny said gently. “You’ve been wanting to revamp the menu. I could get some new menu boards. We can’t afford a total overhaul, but we can move around the furniture and see if we can get some more seating in here. Maybe a comfortable couch in the corner.”

Meara nodded and pulled his rag out of his belt to start wiping down the table.

“What do you want to be our last day?” he asked.

Danny opened his laptop and booted it up before turning back to face Meara. “Maybe this Sunday.”

“That soon?”

Danny hummed unsurely. “We need the time, Meara,” he said. “We just… if we want to be open by the first of November, we need three weeks. We’re already cutting it close at two and a half, but I want our customers to have some warning, you know?”

“You’re sure they’ll be done by then? We both know construction schedules don’t mean anything.”

Danny chuckled. “Yeah. I talked to the workers next door. They’re on time.”

Meara finished wiping up the spilled flour and tucked his towel back in his apron pocket. He bit his lip and exhaled hard through his nose. “Well, Josselin and Frankie said they’d be willing to help with anything they can.”

Danny nodded. “Josselin told me, too. I might have him email all the blogs that have been advertising us and ask them to mention we’re closing for a few weeks, so people don’t make the trip here just to be disappointed.”

“And he can tell them about our grand re-opening?”

“Yeah.”

Danny pulled out his cell phone and sent off a quick text. After he slid it back in his pocket, he paused, and said, “Shit, do you think I should have emailed him?”

“Josselin keeps his phone on silent while he’s asleep,” Meara said. “He has clients all over the country and some don’t think about the difference in time zones.”

“How do you know what Josselin does when he sleeps?” Danny grinned and hiked an eyebrow.

“Because he _told me_ ,” Meara laughed. “You’re ridiculous.” The timer rang and he opened the oven door to flip the trays. “Why don’t you make a sign and update the website and I’ll get to finishing up all the baking.”

Danny grinned and gave Meara a loose salute, then turned back to his computer to get to work.

* * *

 

Meara was filling and cleaning the sugar station when Josselin and Frankie came in. He grinned and waved at them, and said, “Do you mind waiting just a minute while I finish this? I’ll be right there to ring you up.”

“No problem.” Jossselin smiled, gently running his hand along Meara’s lower back as they passed by to his table in the back. “We’ll just get my work set up in the meantime.”

“Thank you.” Meara’s smile back was small, but grateful.

After he cleaned up all the spilled milk and sugar and refilled the napkins and sugars and straws, Meara dropped his rag in the small basket just behind the kitchen door. Sometimes rags just got too dirty to keep using. He called Josselin and Frankie over, already starting to ring up Josselin’s usual.

“Are you paying together or…?”

“I’ve got it,” Frankie grinned. Josselin looked like he was about to protest, but she shut it down with, “You got dinner last night. It’s the least I can do.”

“Okay. So, caramel zombie, orange scone. What do you want, Frankie?”

“Do you have orange syrup?”

Meara nodded as he started to set up Josselin’s mug.

“Can I just get a shot of espresso with one pump of chocolate and one pump of orange? And a little whipped cream.”

“Vegan or dairy?”

“Vegan,” Frankie said. “I can pretend it’s healthy and it’s not like I’m drinking a dessert.”

Meara laughed and rang it up. “That sounds delicious,” he said. “What do you call that?”

Frankie shrugged and handed him her credit card. “Nothing, really. I had it once at a café in Italy, only they put orange zest in the espresso grounds when they pulled it. They had a name for it but I don’t remember what it was anymore.”

Meara nodded thoughtfully and made a mental note to try it later and see if it was worth putting on the menu.

“You know those dark chocolate oranges they sell around Christmas?”

“Yeah?”

“It tastes like if that were coffee.”

“That sounds amazing,” Meara said.

“Ring up another one.”

Meara paused, about to swipe her card. “What?”

“Ring up another one. Try it on me.”

“You’re sure?”

Josselin chuckled as Frankie said, “I wouldn’t have said it if I weren’t.”

“Thank you.” Meara’s voice was soft, but genuine. It was such a kind act, even if they were becoming friends. Frankie’s smile softened and she nodded.

“Here’s your scone,” Meara said, pushing the plate forward to Josselin. He handed Frankie’s card back and said, “And I’ll bring out your drinks in a minute.”

* * *

 

The stark contrast of his oversized mug and Frankie’s tiny espresso shot glass almost made Josselin laugh out loud. Meara didn’t linger long, because he had to get back to work, but he did take the time to squeeze Josselin’s shoulder and take his hand for a moment, just long enough to say, _Even though we’re both right here, I miss you_. Josselin understood. It was so different to see Meara in a date space or even just hanging out at his apartment than it was to see him when they were both working. A certain level of professionalism had to be kept up, even though later they’d probably be laughing over drinks somewhere, or having dinner, or texting.

* * *

 

The rest of the week blurred together in a mass of coffee-scented stress and worry. What if the two and a half weeks wasn’t long enough? What if the grand re-opening didn’t bring in the business they thought it would? What if they poured all this money into a new menu and just ended up closing anyway? There were so many things that could go wrong at so many different points.

Then, Sunday morning, Meara woke up at 4:00, as usual. He hopped out of bed and was halfway to the shower when he realized: today was their first day closing down. He still had baking to do, but he had to do some research, first, and really, all that could wait until the more reasonable hour of 6:00, around when Danny would be coming in. But he was wide awake, so why not start some reading?

He poured over his cookbooks and his favorite baking blogs, leaving sticky notes with scribbled reminders and thoughts all through the books and all over his laptop and desk. He’d gotten pretty adept at being able to tell when a recipe would work just by looking at it, and what changes he might want to make and where. He kept and eye on the clock, waiting for an appropriate time to call Josephine, and finally, 6:00 came and Meara heard the front door chime as it opened. Danny was here. Maybe still a little too early to call Josephine, though. He’d wait until 8:00 or so.

Danny knocked on his apartment door and wiggled the knob. When he found it unlocked, he pushed it just slightly opened and poked his head in.

“Hey!”

Meara didn’t look up from the recipe book he was squinting at. The fifth recipe for herb and chocolate cake, though he was specifically planning on using rosemary. This one had fresh leaves chopped up and added into the ganache instead of just steeped in the soymilk first. The flavor would be more pronounced, that was certain. He’d start with this. Make the same cupcakes and half a recipe of this ganache and half with the steeped soymilk, and see where to go from there.

“Meara?”

Meara finally looked up at Danny. It was only 6:00 a.m., but he already had heavy rings under his eyes. He squinted at Danny and said, “I want to call Josephine in today to taste test. If she can’t make it, we’ll put some aside for her.”

“Not a problem.” Danny shook his head. “Why don’t you come out of your hole and into the kitchen? We can talk there.”

Meara nodded and gathered up his cookbooks and sticky notes. He carefully stacked up the ones on his laptop and organized them by type, then stuck them to his cell phone to pull up the recipes later.

“What are you thinking?” Danny asked.

“I want to branch out into more specialty cupcakes,” Meara said. “Not exclusively. I still want scones and things, maybe we’ll relegate cinnamon rolls to only Sundays. We can cycle the cupcake flavors by day, even so that way we can have more kinds with less waste.”

“What kinds of cupcakes specifically?”

“Rosemary chocolate with chocolate ganache,” Meara started.

“Ooh.”

“White chocolate mocha with coffee buttercream.”

“ _Ooh!_ ”

“Rose pistachio with rose buttercream.”

“Be still my heart! Anything else?”

“I want to do something with lemon, but I haven’t decided what yet,” Meara said. He spread out his cookbooks and his notes and flipped open a few things, then pulled out his bowls and started getting to work.

“I went shopping last night to pick up a few things,” he continued, moving away from the table to pull a few bags out of the cooler. “But I’ll need to send you out again once everything’s open.”

Danny saluted before turning back to his computer. “No problem!”

* * *

 

Thirty minutes passed and the rosemary chocolate cupcakes were cooling on the rack. Another thirty passed and Meara tapped the top of one with his wrist. Still too warm to frost, but by the time the ganache was done, they would be ready.

He fished out the rosemary sprigs and leaves that he’d left steeping in the soymilk and heated it back up again to melt the chocolate. A dab of maple syrup, and he stirred it all until it came together. He split it into two bowls: one plain, one with added rosemary.

The recipe had made twelve cupcakes, so he frosted them six and six. He cut one of each in half and set them on plates, pushing two of them over to Danny.

“Tell me which you like best and why.”

Danny grabbed one at random. It was the one with plain ganache, so Meara started there, too. He took a bite. It was _good_ , but it wasn’t _great_. It was just a really nice chocolate cupcake with a tiny bit of a foresty bite. He put it down without finishing it and took a bite of the other one.

The rosemary hit him in the nose like a truck. The flavor was good, but it was _way_ too strong, and it left him coughing and sneezing. Danny’s reaction was much the same.

“Well,” Danny said, “the first one just kind of tasted like piney chocolate, but at least it didn’t make me sneeze.”

“Yeah.” Meara rubbed at his nose and put the cupcake down.

“I think we need it to be somewhere in the middle.”

“I agree.”

Meara pushed the other cupcakes to the side and started over.

Five batches of cupcakes later, it was 8:30, and Meara grabbed the store phone so he could call Josephine. He fished her resume out of his file and dialed her number. He was surprised when she answered. He’d expected her to be at her other job, for it to go to voicemail.

“Hello?”

“Josephine, hey, it’s Meara. From Sara’s Sweets.”

“Oh, hi! How’s business?”

“We’ve actually shut down for a few weeks of what we expect to be pretty slow times, so we can revamp the menu. I was hoping you would join us for tastings? You’ll be paid, of course.”

“That sounds awesome!”

Meara could hear her enthusiastic grin on the other end of the line.

“I have work all week, but if you don’t have specific hours to keep, I can come in at… 7:00? 7:30? What days do you need me?”

“Every two or three days or so,” Meara said. “Let’s say… Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday? Or do you need Saturday night to hang out with your friends?”

“How about Sunday morning instead of Saturday?” Josephine asked. “I can come by at… 9:00, maybe? I have Sundays off, so. I can really be by whenever.”

“Perfect.” Meara popped his ‘p’ and Josephine laughed. Meara missed that laugh, the bright, boisterous, joyful sound. He missed working alongside her. “We’d also really like to bring you back once we open up again,” he continued. “I can only promise you part-time at first, until we get a better feel for what business will be like. But Danny and I both really want you back on the team. Right, Danny?”

“Hell yeah!” Danny shouted, throwing his fist up in the air. They both laughed as Danny went back to his work.

“I can work on Sundays for sure,” Josephine said. “I’ll talk to my boss and see if he’ll be willing to give me a regular shift so I can be, like, with you at 6:00 to 10:00 and there noon to whenever. Or something. I’ll see what I can do, okay?”

“Okay.” Meara nodded, even though she couldn’t see him. “I wish we could offer you full time. You deserve it.”

“I know things have been hard,” Josephine said. “Hopefully this is the right move.”

Meara looked over at Danny, who was leaning over his computer screen.

“Yeah,” he said. “I hope so.”

* * *

 

Meara wanted to wait until Josselin and Frankie arrived for tasting at 10:00 before moving on with the rosemary-chocolate cupcakes, so he put the cooled and iced cakes to the side and started on his recipe for green tea and red bean cupcakes. This one would be a wild card of sorts, and probably only on the menu once a week, because it wasn’t a very popular flavor. But it was a pet project of Meara’s and had been for some time. A pot of azuki beans simmered on the stove as he measured out the almond milk. The almond flavor mixed with the matcha would be key.

He’d just pulled them from the oven when Danny looked up at the door and squinted.

“Danny?” Meara asked.

“I think someone’s at the door,” Danny said. “I’ll be right back.”

Meara checked the clock 9:30. Were they early?

They were!

Danny came back into the kitchen, trailing Josselin and Frankie behind him.

“You’re here just in time to try the rosemary-chocolate cupcakes!” Meara grinned. He wiped his flour-covered hands on his apron and stepped forward, taking Josselin’s elbow. He pressed a kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek -- it felt a little foreign, doing it in his workplace, but it was nice to be able to be so casual, finally. Meara felt like he’d been living at work, never able to spend time with Josselin or any of his few friends in the city outside of when they came into the café.

Josselin pressed a kiss back, a little closer to Meara’s mouth, as Frankie pushed by them and said, “Ooh, man, that sounds delicious!”

“I’ll get them set up, okay?”

Meara cut the cupcakes into fourths -- not including the ones he and Danny had tried earlier, because both of those had been failures -- and set up plate with little notecards reading ‘Cupcake A,’ ‘Cupcake B,’ and so on and so forth.

“Try them in order,” Meara said. “We have some hot coffee brewed and some water so you can clear out your mouth in between samples. I have this sheet here --“ he pulled out a folder from beneath the table and slipped out some papers, handing one to each of his friends. “Where you can write down your thoughts. Remember this is rosemary chocolate, so we need to be sure we can actually taste the rosemary. Chocolate is a very strong flavor so it’s proven difficult to get the balance right so far.”

Frankie snapped to attention and saluted and Josselin nodded, his eyes on the cupcakes as he fiddled with one of the cards.

“I’ll get you each a cup of water and a cup of coffee,” Meara finished. “Don’t start tasting until I get back.”

* * *

 

When he returned with drinks and palate cleansers for the four of them -- including ample amounts of simple syrup and soy creamer for Josselin -- they went through the cupcakes one by one. Too chocolatey, too herbaceous, the texture wasn’t quite right. Finally they all decided on the fourth out of the five as the best ganache and the second as the best cupcake.

“Okay, so then I’ll just combine the two,” Meara said. He scribbled his notes down in his book and snapped it shut, sliding it into his pocket. “I have to check on the beans.”

“The… beans?” Josselin asked.

“I’m making a green tea cupcake with an azuki bean filling,” Meara said. “Or, trying to. This one I might not be able to make work. I should probably leave it for last, but… I really want it.”

Suddenly Frankie’s face pulled into a grimace. “You’re not changing the cinnamon roll recipe, are you?”

Meara chuckled and shook his head. “No. You don’t mess with perfection.”

She relaxed and wiped at her forehead to show her relief. “Thank god.”

* * *

 

Meara was so unhappy with the first batch of azuki green tea cupcakes, he didn’t even let his co-tasters try them.

“Thankfully I only filled the one to start,” he said. “The cupcakes are good on their own. They’re just really weird and gummy with the filling.”

“Could you make it into a buttercream?” Danny asked.

Meara stroked his chin, looking over at the tray of unfrosted, bright green cupcakes.

“You know, I’ll bet I could?” he said. “I don’t know where on earth to start, though, so I’ll have to do some googling. I’ll get started on the rose and pistachio cupcakes and while they’re in the oven I’ll look some things up.”

Josselin perked up. His eyebrows shot up and his eyes went wide.

“Did you say rose and pistachio?” he asked.

Meara grinned.

“Yes!” Josselin gave a tiny fist pump and Meara laughed.

“I brought him back some candy from Iran once and he hoarded the stuff until it finally ran out,” Frankie said. “It was rose gummy with pistachio bits covered in chocolate.”

"Oh my god, I know just what you're talking about," Danny said. "My dad always brings me some whenever he and my mom go back to visit. I _love_ those things."

Meara tapped his chin. “Chocolate covered pistaschio bits,” he murmured to himself. “And it didn’t bury the rose in the heavy flavor?”

“No, it was perfect,” Josselin said. “It was so good, Meara. If you could recreate that in cupcake form I would follow you to the ends of the earth.”

Meara covered his mouth and hummed as he thought. Finally, he dropped his hand and said, “The temperature of our kitchen is too unpredictable to temper chocolate, but what about just a little drizzle?”

Josselin jumped on Meara with a hug, nearly bowling him into the oven. Meara laughed. It was so good to see what Josselin was like when he was comfortable, when they didn’t have to put up the wall of professionalism between them. Meara kissed Josselin’s forehead -- was Josselin really that much shorter? he hadn’t noticed until now -- and Josselin popped up on his toes to press a kiss to Meara’s mouth. It was quick and chaste but that didn’t stop Danny and Frankie from whooping in approval. Meara flushed hot and bright pink and Josselin smiled and licked the buttercream from Meara’s mouth off his lips.

“Cupcakes,” Meara said.

“Right,” Danny laughed.

* * *

 

It took a few days and a lot of mishaps, cupcakes set aside for Josephine to try when she could get in, and a terrible powdered sugar spill, but eventually Meara worked out what would be successful and what wouldn’t. They set up a rotating schedule for certain cupcake flavors and decided which would be available every day.

Meara spent the next few days re-working the sandwiches, then the following week coming up with holiday scone flavors. For the rest of the fall and winter, he’d replace his orange scone with an orange cranberry scone, and add cinnamon chips to the cinnamon scones, and for now, blueberry would stay on the menu since he could get them frozen, with the thought that he might remove them from the menu for the winter depending on how much they sold.

He worked out a gingerbread muffin recipe and replaced the cupcake with a chocolate-peppermint. After some work, he came up with an almond-cherry muffin, too, and after some hemming and hawing decided against the blueberry muffin for sale, but he came up with a recipe to have on standby, just in case.

Then, suddenly, their grand opening was the following day and everything was just ready. Josephine managed to get the day off from her full time job so she could help them, and Josselin and Frankie would be on standby in case things got really crazy.

“We’ll pay you whatever you work,” Danny said.

“You don’t have to,” Frankie replied. “It’s okay. We don’t mind helping out for one day.”

“We’ll pay you.” Danny’s voice was firm. “We don’t run that kind of business.”

Frankie and Josselin saluted and nodded sharply, once. Danny grinned. They grinned back.

“$10.50 an hour. Keep track of what you work. I trust you.”

* * *

 

Meara was up the next morning at 4:00, as usual, and went about his morning baking, as usual, and when he came out to the front to stock the bake case, as usual, there was already a line outside the door. He glanced at his watch. Only 5:30? They were going to be out there at least another half hour. Didn’t they know that?

Normally he wouldn’t have acknowledged them until opening, but it was so cold out, and there were so _many_ of them.

So he approached the door and knocked on it to get the first man’s attention. Meara pointed at the sign with their hours of operation and held up six fingers. Then he tapped at the sign flipped to ‘closed.’ The man grinned and shrugged, but didn’t leave.

Okay, then. Meara would just have to make sure everything was worth the wait.

Danny came in ten minutes to six, Josephine five minutes after that. Everything was set up and ready to go, and Danny counted out the drawer while Meara caught Josephine up on their new menu.

“The drinks are still pretty much the same,” he said, gesturing up to the board as Josephine pulled her dark hair back in a ponytail. She tied a brightly colored and patterned bandana over the top of her head. She’d always preferred those to hats.

“The new sandwiches are the main thing that might trip you up, because they’re so different. We can still make any of the old ones, because we have the ingredients, so they’re in the computer to ring up if someone does want one. But we have a list taped to the screen so you can glance over for quick reference if anyone asks you what’s on the new ones.”

Josephine gave him a thumbs up and nodded.

“New cupcakes and things are pretty self-explanatory. We only sell cinnamon rolls on Sundays now. I think that’s it.”

Josephine grinned and whapped Meara’s shoulder in a friendly way. “You got it, boss.”

Josselin peered through the window where he and Frankie stood in the back and shot Meara a smile. Meara smiled back.

“I’m letting ‘em in,” Danny said, and he left the register on the point of sale screen and unlocked the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me and letting me share this totally self-indulgent story. I hope you enjoyed it, too! Come visit me at [indecentpause on tumblr](http://indecentpause.tumblr.com) for more Meara and company, or try Sunflowers and Ink for another Meara and Josselin meet-cute AU!
> 
> Thanks everyone! See you next Monday with a new story!


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